Waiting
by Tintinnabula
Summary: Howl's life before meeting Sophie, and his thoughts and feelings during the time portrayed in the movie. Based on Miyazaki's version of these characters.
1. In Which We Meet Our Hero

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader! I would greatly appreciate any constructive criticism._

**Chapter 1: In Which We Meet Our Hero**

He dreamt about her sometimes. She was blurry in his dreams, less distinct than that evening years ago when he had seen her so briefly. Yet in waking moments, he remembered her clearly. It had been in early August when he first glimpsed her, and the Perseid meteor showers had rained down in full force. Howl had awakened to tinkling, crashing sounds and arose quickly to investigate. It was his first summer on the marshy meadow and generally it was quiet, except for the occasional call of a night jar. But not tonight. Although the sky was moonless, Howl needed no lantern. The meadow was bright with activity. The twelve-year-old rolled up his trousers and walked into the damp, leaving his shoes at the door. His feet would sink quickly into the black, fertile and rather smelly mud, and Howl hadn't yet learned a spell to clean and polish his shoes to his satisfaction. Mud squished between his toes as he walked toward the lights and the soft, dissonant chiming. A bright glow appeared here and there, and he saw lights briefly embodied as sprites or demons trip across the water, then fizzle and disappear. He heard soft cries of anguish. It seemed sad to Howl that these beings would live no more after tonight. And yet, what a beautiful way to die.

Another star fell from the heavens, spun, then danced across the sky as it journeyed to the earth. Howl walked steadily toward it, and soon was surrounded by the glow of this near-immortal. Howl held his hands out, and the star gently came to rest in his palms. Wide-eyed, Howl considered this. It was not hot as he imagined a star might be. Howl filled with a gentle warmth as the star spoke to him. "Hey! You! Human! I don't want to die! You gotta help me! Please."

"But what can I do to help you?"

"Give me something of yours," the demon said. "Something from your body. Something that makes you what you are. C'mon. You gotta hurry."

Howl thought briefly. "But I need my body! How will I become a great sorcerer without eyes or ears? I need to see, to hear, to walk and talk and think. I want to help you, I don't want you to die, but…"

"It won't hurt," said the spirit. "You'll still live—better than if you'd never met me. If you give me something that only a human has, I'll keep it safe, and boy, I'll make it worth your while. We'll have a contract. You'll have use of all of my power, and I'll do your bidding. Whatever you say! Can you imagine the type of wizard I could make you? Whadda ya say?"

"Well, " said Howl, "how about my heart? How should I give it to you?"

As his heart left his chest Howl felt a choking pain, then emptiness. A sudden cry surprised the young sorcerer and the flaming keeper of his heart.

_Howl! Calcifer!_

They turned toward the darkness, an inky patch against the dappled sky. A girl, with hair like starlight and eyes of liquid brown floated within the darkness. An angel, perhaps.

"How does she know my name?" muttered the fire demon

_I know how to help you! Find me in the future!_ Her words echoed. Then she was swallowed up by the darkness.

"Hey, Howl," said the fire demon. "Now that I know your name, there are a couple of things you need to know. Everything you think, I hear. And what you would feel in your heart, I feel for you instead. Sophie. She said her name is Sophie. I think I am in love, Howl!"

Love. What does a child know of loving others? Has he loved truly, madly, deeply? And what kind of love has he felt? Cupboard love? Yes, most likely. What child doesn't love the provider of milk, the bringer of toys, the owner of comforting arms. Puppy love? Possibly. But that is feeling love for someone because he or she makes you feel loved, and is not the same as loving someone else without condition. Unrequited love? I hope not.

And what does a child know of being loved? Has he been loved truly, madly, deeply? And what kind of love has he felt? The unconditional love of a parent, almost certainly. Hopefully. But has he been loved in this way for long enough to learn to love this way himself?

It takes time and patience for a child to learn to love in return, unconditionally, whole-heartedly. Howl was no exception to this. Yet Howl had no one to teach him this lengthy lesson. His mother and father had loved him as deeply, as truly and madly as only parents can. But by the time Howl turned seven, they were both dead. His father, in the first war. The "War with No Reason," Howl's mother called it. Then she was gone, too. Howl's aged uncle took him in. Howl had not known the man before going to live with him. He had no idea how to love him. He was prickly. Unapproachable, really. Octavius certainly felt the same way about Howl. A bachelor wizard, Octavius Pendragon knew little of children. Or of love. He was a good man, but a true intellectual. He rarely used his heart. Logic and consideration were paths he used to arrive at decisions. He expressed his approval through excessive gifts, his discomfort or anger with prolonged absences and late nights at his office.

What did young Howl know of love? Precious little. No wonder, then, that he bartered his heart away so easily. Losing his ability to love, however, did little to lessen his thunderous aching for love.

Unlike most students at the Royal Academy of Sorcery, Howl did not board. While his parents lived, school was not affordable. The Jenkins were common. His mother had married a non-wizard, a lowly sailor, an orphan of Porthaven. A cliché! To show their disapproval, her family withdrew. Before his parents' death, Howl did not know his grandparents, his aunts nor his uncles. The Jenkins were near penniless, but Howl's talent was so extreme at such a young age that the Academy pursued him and offered him a scholarship. Now that Octavius has taken him in, Howl continued as a day student. Octavius was dean emeritus, after all, and had lodgings nearby of the quality you might expect for a wizard of his caliber. Although he tended to be oblivious to the feelings of others, Octavius could see that Howl needed a family and home. He provided as well as he could for his foster child.

To Octavius' eyes, however, Howl (like other children) was just a smaller version of an adult. And treat Howl like an adult he did. From the age of eight, Howl learned things other students his age would not be exposed to for years. Octavius recognized Howl's intellect and opened his vast library to Howl. No volume was off limits. Howl read, and read, and learned. Soon he was studying with and outperforming students 5 years his senior. He was resented, of course. Why should the dean's scrawny nephew, a boy of twelve, sit with young adults of their caliber? They laughed at his name. At his love of learning. At his lack of family. At his lack of friends. At his patience and willingness to put up with their jeers, never cowering. At his desperate need to be befriended. Howl's clothes were no longer patched, and his ankles were covered fully by his trousers, but they still made sport of his attire (Octavius was no student of fashion.) After three years, Howl was still known as the scholarship boy, the dean's nephew, the boy who really didn't belong at the most prestigious school in all of Ingary. The school, that is, that trained the most respected men and women in all the land. The school to which they belonged, these children of aristocrats and the wizarding elite. His classmates overlooked the long wizarding tradition of his mother's family and Howl's prodigious abilities. They overlooked the fact that many of them were legacy students themselves, there because their parents had attended the Academy. In looking at Howl, they saw only the outside, the differences. Thus, Howl learned early how important exteriors are to many of us. Sadly his classmates did not learn the corollary to this lesson: how strong one must be to stand gentle yet firm in the face of aggression.

Octavius, though prickly and aloof, was aware of Howl's low standing among his classmates. He expressed his concern in the only way he knew how. And so, at age twelve, Howl found himself master of a secret garden, a sanctuary for weekends and summers. It was bespelled to protect him from any danger Octavius could think of and stocked with every supply and book a young wizard might desire. Howl was as delighted as a twelve-year-old can be. (Which is very delighted.) And thankful, too, to his gruff yet thoughtful uncle. Howl spent holidays practicing his magic in peaceful solitude and grew stronger and more skilled daily. And then Calcifer and Sophie came along, and Howl began to dream of his future.


	2. In Which Howl Becomes Disgusted and Disc

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader! I would greatly appreciate any constructive criticism._

**Chapter 2: In Which Howl Becomes Disgusted and Discovers Girls**

Returning to school in the fall of his twelfth year, Howl found himself placed with the upper classmen of the Academy. These students, who would be graduating in just a year or two were assigned to advanced classes and one-on-one tutelage with the masters of the Academy. The most renowned of these was Madame Suliman, the Royal Sorceress, and it was at her side that Howl spent much of his time. Suliman had heard and quickly confirmed that Howl was no ordinary student. His gifts were not far from her level, and he was only a boy of twelve. Madame Suliman was ambitious, and Howl fit her plans. As a boy so young, he would be easy to shape into her image. In her one hundred years on Earth, Suliman had seen few with such raw talent. Perhaps her old classmate and former colleague Emma had this level of talent as a student. But Emma, although loyal friend to Suliman, had clearly been a threat to Suliman's plan to become Royal Sorceress. Suliman's talents paled in comparison to those of Emma. But Suliman's had other skills that surpassed those of her friend. It was not difficult to fabricate the attempt on the King's life that banished Emma to the waste, and Suliman had no regrets in doing so. In due time, Suliman's own considerable talents were recognized and she had risen to her rightful place as the kingdom's most powerful woman. Howl would be her legacy to Ingary, her creation. When she died (and she had scryed that it would be in the next twenty five years), Howl would take her place. She had waited so long for one as worthy as Howl. People would remember that it was Suliman who had been his teacher, the one who had made him the wizard that he was. And with Howl as Royal Sorcerer, Suliman would live on.

Suliman was an intimidating master. Unlike Howl's uncle, Suliman was not the type of teacher that appreciated critical and independent thought. Her goal for her students was mastery and automaticity of the spells she taught. She had not been a person of great talent herself, but through practice and determination she had advanced to the head of state. Her goal was to instill this discipline into her students, in particular Howl. Howl's immense creativity and willingness to think laterally sometimes frustrated Suliman, and Howl in turn was often frustrated by Suliman's rigidness and her autocratic nature.

"Never forget," Suliman warned, "the contract you signed when you entered this Academy. The kingdom has selected you, its best and brightest, for great things. You will gain glory and prestige, and in return you are bound to the kingdom, and to me. If you are called to assist the king, you will do so, at cost of your life or your powers. Never forget this, my child."

Howl pondered this. "How can they expect a child to sign his life away?" He thought. "I was six years old when I signed that piece of paper. Now my life has been laid before me. Do I really want to do this?" He did not voice this, however. "That woman scares me so."

Suliman seemed to read his mind. "Howl," she said acerbically, "The die was cast years ago. You are in the service of the king of Ingary, and the Royal Sorceress, his retainer. You will do your duty while you are within these walls and even after. You are meant for great things, Howl, and you will achieve this greatness."

Howl cleared his mind of these thoughts and focused immediately on the spell he had learned that morning. His uncle had not told him of spells of mind-reading, but Calcifer could certainly read his mind, so why not Suliman? But later, alone, Howl ruminated on this conversation and thought, "I never guessed I would be a servant."

In his advanced classes Howl learned some things his uncle had not taught him in their earlier tutoring sessions. Suliman instructed the class in the theory and practice of transformation. All of us, she said, have an inner essence that can be harnessed and brought to the surface. She told the class to meditate on their inner selves and consider what they truly were, deep inside. She cast a complicated spell and her students saw each other in their alternate form. There were several attempts at wildcats, a few hopeful jackals and wolves, and more than one non-descript lap dog. Alone among them stood a raven, glossy black, with startling blue eyes, its feathers distinct, its claws perfectly formed. Suliman waved her hand and the spell disintegrated. For most people, Suliman said, the inner essence expressed in transformation is the animal with which one most clearly identified, one's familiar. The vast numbers of dog-lovers in Ingary would in all likelihood be canines, if they were to embrace their familiar, and many more would be cats. As sorcerers, Suliman said, most mammalian forms were too weak to be of use. It was disappointing to her that all but one of her students had taken a mammalian form. At this, several snickers escaped the students seated closest to Howl. Suliman ignored the subtle jeers. By harnessing and training their inner essence, she continued, sorcerers could select the form that would best allow them to do their duty to the kingdom. A fierce animal, mythological or real, with the ability of flight would be the most appropriate choice. Suliman whispered words and began to transform herself. A large and terrifying winged dragon appeared, her veined wings leathery black, her tail barbed and flexible, her teeth and talons predatory. The students immediately scribbled notes and drawings so that they, too, could assume a similar form. Suliman reappeared in her human (though equally terrifying, to Howl's mind) form. She warned the class the transformation was not to be taken lightly. It was not a parlor trick. Extended periods in familiar form had the unfortunate tendency to become a permanent condition. Even worse, contracting with a demon made this permanence occur sooner, and tended to magnify and distort the degree of transformation. Not that any of the Academy's students would sink to contracting with a demon. That was clearly against the Academy's Code of Ethical Behavior and would lead to immediate expulsion.

In his advanced studies, Howl also learned that there are other worlds. He had guessed that this was true from books in his uncle's library that talked of places Howl couldn't find on the globe. His teachers told stories of oddly-dressed people who were sometimes found wandering the wastes or the marshes. They spoke of places unheard of, and were generally trundled off to the insane asylum in Kingsbury, to be kept out of the populace but available for study. Howl hadn't considered that two worlds could occupy the same place. He wondered how this could be. Were time and space like a ribbon that might be folded in places? He wondered if he could cut a door into this ribbon, or fold it at will. Would he be able to move within the present without a painful relocation spell? Could he go back or forward in time? Or to other worlds? He was fascinated.

As her apprentice, Howl was Suliman's choice to eventually replace her (although she had not shared this with him). With this in mind, Suliman arranged for Howl to visit the king's court each afternoon. The goal of these visits was for Howl to learn the craft of the courtier, so that as a wizard in the king's employ he would be adept in the arts of communication and diplomacy. All advanced students spent some time in the court, but Suliman wanted Howl to have extra experience. Howl welcomed this daily diversion, as it gave him some time apart from his master. Howl noticed first the outlandish clothes worn by the men of the court, the lace and fabrics finer than that worn by most women, and the battle of fragrances within the hall. Many of these men appeared to spend more time on their toilette than the women. Howl compared these men to himself and found himself lacking. His clothes, while expensive were somewhat plain, and his hair far too dark. But as his uncle denied him nothing, Howl soon discovered the joys of couturier clothing and cosmetic spells for his hair. He quickly learned the mannerisms of the court and found himself to be an excellent communicator. The girls in his class noticed these changes in Howl and he found that suddenly he was liked. Even competed over! What an amazing change for the better! Suliman noticed these changes, too. It was not according to plan. She berated him. The foppery of the court, she said, was not its essence. His job was to develop his communication skills, not his vanity. But Howl had never been liked before and in a fit of pre-teen rebellion, he refused to revert to his less flamboyant self. Suliman disliked anything other than complete control, but decided that a happy Howl would be more likely to follow her instructions, so she decided it was in her best interest that Howl try on this new personality for a time. He would see things her way eventually, as she had only started molding him. And she did like his pale gold hair. It suited him. If only she were younger! He could be her Galatea.

Howl knew nothing of these thoughts of course, and nothing of Suliman's eventual plans for him. He was deliriously happy to be liked and admired. He still dreamed, however, of his starlit vision, the soft-eyed angel he had seen the previous summer. Sometimes in his dreams he heard her voice. And somehow, she seemed closer, more real and more attainable.


	3. In Which Our Hero is Expelled

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader. Thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It means a lot to me!_

**Chapter 3: In Which Howl Is Expelled**

Suliman awoke with a start. She had been sleeping fitfully of late and tonight was no exception. She had dreamed of Howl again. They were birds, he in his raven form, she an osprey, a bird of the water. They flew calmly at first, then began to race. Although Suliman had the benefits of speed and size, the raven Howl easily outpaced and outmaneuvered her. He caught a thermal and rose a hundred feet into the air, then tucked his wings and dove into the sparkling water. He emerged moments later, a glistening, thrashing fish in his claws. He tossed the fish on the bank of the river and emerged from the water in his human form. He was a fit, handsome man of twenty, beads of water sparkling on his pale skin. Suliman felt the air rush past her as she descended and landed clumsily. She did not like this raptor form she had taken. Although aerodynamic, it lacked the sheer power of her dragon form. Suliman retook her human form and found Howl laughing, his eyes merry with delight. She did not know why he laughed. Was he mocking her?

Fully awake now, Suliman contemplated the lesson on transformation she had given months before. Howl's winged form had startled and surprised her. That he would have a familiar more powerful than his classmates was to be expected. But the fact that he had taken the form of a bird signified his desire for independence and his strong will. Howl was no lap dog, nothing like her beloved Heen. Would Howl be as malleable as she needed him to be? The fact that he had taken the form of the raven, an intelligent bird known in some mythologies as the trickster, was also worrisome. What was he hiding from her? The details of his transformation did not sit right. She had never seen a student morph to this degree on the first try. How was it that Howl's bird form was so true to life, so finely crafted? Was this just another aspect of his giftedness or of something else entirely? She would need to investigate.

It was early spring, and Howl's birthday had come and gone. The semester had been uneventful, except for his increasing popularity with his female classmates. On the day of the lottery of Juno, Howl had been inundated with cards and small gifts from these girls. Most were anonymous, but a few of the more brazen had signed their names along with potential times they were available, and places where they might meet. There also were a few poems extolling Howl's meltingly blue eyes, and shining blond hair. Howl's birthday had warranted a similar flurry of attention, although he wasn't sure how his classmates had learned the date. Howl was not used to displays of this sort, but he found them to be quite enjoyable. Until now, his birthday celebrations had consisted solely of dinner with his uncle. There was typically quite a bit of harrumphing over soup and the main course, until his uncle deposited, unceremoniously, whatever overpriced trinket he had thought might express the words he was unable to say. This year's experience had certainly been different, and Howl realized that he was enjoying his time at the Academy.

When school had restarted, Howl had moved Calcifer from the fireplace at the mill cottage to his rooms in Octavius' home. It had been no problem to transport Calcifer, although the spell was nauseating and Calcifer had complained for hours afterward. Although Kingsbury's location was subtropical, and temperatures were generally quite warm until late fall, Howl's uncle did not question Howl's need for a constant fire in his room. In fact, he did not even know of it. Howl's quarters were off limits to Octavius by his own choice, as Octavius would not think of intruding on Howl's privacy. It was a small matter for Howl to inform the housekeeping staff that they should no longer clean his room. Like many creative people, Howl was a bit messy. He knew where every item in his rooms was placed, although its organization seemed non-existent to others. He preferred the cleaning staff to stay away from his rooms as they tended to disrupt his works in process. The staff was more than happy to respect Howl's wishes. Strange powders and contraptions could be found in Howl's rooms, and more than one servant had caused a small explosion, whirlwind, or singed his eyebrows when straightening Howl's messes. And that constant fire did seem a little strange, even for a wizarding household.

Every morning, before Howl left for classes, he banked the fire. Calcifer would sleep until midday (The laggard! If only Howl could sleep so late!) and awaken hungry. A supply of wood was laid in easy reach and would suffice until Howl returned later in the day. Howl typically retired early in the evening, often foregoing dinner with his uncle to take his meal in his quarters in front of the fire. During this time he would discuss the events of the day with Calcifer, cozy and sheltered in the room's inglenook. This conversation was hardly necessary from Calcifer's point of view, as he did hear every thought that passed through Howl's mind, whether Howl was seated by the fire or not. This gave Calcifer a good, although one-sided idea of what had happened throughout the day. It was terribly boring, though, to be alone in Howl's quarters all day, and their nightly recaps gave Calcifer a chance to take center stage and act the sage. From Howl's point of view, the talks he had with Calcifer were invaluable. Calcifer had lived so long and seen so much in his life as a star that he typically had unique insights into Howl's problems. Calcifer's advice was amoral, as demon advice usually is, but it gave Howl a firm marker against which he could form and harden his own opinions. In the short time they had been together, Calcifer was already the most important influence in Howl's life.

After Madame Suliman had appeared to read Howl's mind, Howl and Calcifer agreed that it would be for the best that Calcifer not communicate with Howl during the hours he was at school. There was still so much to learn in school, and Howl could not risk expulsion. For the first time in his life, he had friends. Every now and then, however, Howl would hear Calcifer's voice intrude on his thoughts. "Hey! Mr. Magician! Do you think you could make it back here at lunchtime? I've eaten all the wood and I'm starving! It wasn't even enough for a small snack! I don't think I'll survive until evening. I'm really feeling weak… And could you bring me some other type of wood? I'm tired of eucalyptus. It's stinky and tough, and you know how it aggravates my digestion. How about some nice magnolia or knotty pine? Mmmm. Resin." Calcifer's intrusions were rarely very important, but they did provide Howl with a small diversion in the midst of classes that could be stultifying boring. However, one day as Calicifer was wheedling him for some good, soft coal to burn, Howl looked up to see Madame Suliman glancing quickly around the classroom. She left her grading and walked quickly around the classroom, like a proctor who senses that cheating is going on, but is not sure exactly who is the culprit.

"Hush, you!" Howl shouted in his mind. Madame Suliman's gaze quickly shifted to Howl. She looked at him as though she were trying to solve a puzzle in which he was a critical piece. This unnerved Howl. Did she know about Calcifer? And hadn't they just learned that mind-reading is unethical?

Howl had never asked Calcifer for help with his spells, although according to their contract Calcifer's skills were at Howl's disposal. Every spell, charm and incantation Howl did was under his own considerable power. To Suliman, however, Howl's work began to look too good. She sometimes asked him if his uncle, Octavius had lent a hand, particularly when Howl was the only student to complete a particularly onerous assignment. Howl decided it would be in his best interest to make mistakes here and there. His courtly, practiced handwriting became cramped and illegible, and he quickly became known for the casual, cavalier way in which he performed his spells (and as an unintended result, was even more admired by his female classmates). Howl was not sure whether or not this sudden underachievement had allayed Suliman's suspicions. What would he do?

Howl wondered if there was a spell which could tell its user whether or not a person had a contract with a demon. In his free time at school, he searched the library, but found nothing. Such a spell wouldn't have been taught at school, Howl realized, as spells that probed within the heart, soul or mind of others are strictly forbidden to wizards. Howl smiled his way into the restricted and rare books sections, but found nothing there, either. Undeterred, he began to spend evenings in his uncle's study, perusing the more esoteric books in Octavius' collection. After several days, he found what he had sought. "A Spelle to Identify Those Who Would Consorte with Demons," it said. It was a very simple spell, requiring only a watch and a mirror. Howl turned pale and suddenly felt sick. Hadn't he seen those very items on Suliman's desk? "Calcifer?" He cried out in his mind. There was no reply. Breathless, he rushed back to his quarters, crashed through the door and called to Calcifer. "I think she knows! What will we do?"

"Do? There is nothing to do," said a voice.

"I am very surprised, Howl," said another, kinder voice. Howl turned toward the fire, and gasped at the sight of Madame Suliman and Octavius sitting in the inglenook, sipping port and peering at Calcifer. Calcifer was a sickly purple color, and he was half hidden in the grate. He appeared to be injured. Suliman's expression was malevolent. Octavius was simply disappointed.

"You know what this means, Howl," said Suliman. "You will leave the Academy immediately. If, in the future, you can find a town that will allow you to practice as a wizard, you are certainly welcome to do so. I would expect this to be highly unlikely, however. Demon worshippers are not held in high regard in Ingary. It pains me to lose you as a student, Howl. But we simply cannot allow such blatant flaunting of the rules. I had such high hopes for you, Howl, and you have ruined them. What a selfish, horrible young man you have become. You disgrace me as your master. How dare you." Suliman paused, composing her features and calming her breathing.

Howl did not dare interrupt. What would she do if he told her he knew of her mind reading?

Suliman said in a cooler voice, "Do not forget, Howl, that although you are leaving the Academy, you have signed an oath to serve the king. He will be repaid. Never forget this Howl. Quite simply, I own you." With that, Suliman rose and exited.

Octavius soon followed. "Howl," he said. "I would suggest you spend some time at the cottage or find new lodgings elsewhere. I will provide everything you need. But please, do not return to this house." He turned on his heel and left.


	4. In Which Our Hero Is Alone

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader. Thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It means a lot to me!_

**Chapter 4: In Which Our Hero Is Alone**

"My academic career is in tatters," he might have thought if he were a bit older. But Howl was only thirteen. He had mixed feelings about his expulsion from the Academy. Just when he was beginning to make friends he was "asked to leave." Of course, he had learned pretty much all there was to learn there, and classes had seemed increasingly to be a waste of his time. His feelings about Octavius were more definite. There had been a hurt look in his eyes as he asked Howl to go. Was he afraid of tarnishing his reputation at the Academy? Teaching was Octavius' life's work, so perhaps that was it. Had Howl left it in tatters? Hopefully not. The Academy tended to be pretty discreet, despite Madame Suliman's assertions to the contrary. It seemed to be more than that, however. Howl was surprised, then saddened by the realization that his uncle had been quite fond of him in his own taciturn way. He realized he would miss Octavius, too.

The cottage was a grand place to be, though. Although Octavius was apparently angry (as far as Howl could tell), he had magically stocked the house with all the food and wizardly supplies Howl might require. There was no bathroom, however, which was problematic. Howl had grown accustomed to long, leisurely soaks in the marble-lined bath at his uncle's home. Howl now bathed in the stream that fed the water wheel. This would be refreshing in summer, but now, in spring, it was frightfully cold. Perhaps some remodeling was in order.

Howl put his mind to finding the spells that would allow him to add on to the cottage. Not too much, mind you—he loved the cottage as it was, as Octavius had designed it. But some small changes were in order, apart from the bathroom. The floors were bare stone, and the cottage was heated by a woodstove. This was practical for heating, but provided little light by which to study. And, more importantly, it was claustrophobic for Calcifer. He was still complaining about the transport spell that had carried them out to the cottage.

"That Suliman!" Calcifer sputtered. "What type of person lays a demon low, then subjects him to such a primitive tearing of time and space?"

"I was responsible for the transport spell, Calcifer. Do you know of a better way?" was Howl's even-tempered rejoinder. "It really would be nice to get into town every now and then, and that spell really does make a person feel sick."

"You got that right, buddy," was Calcifer's only reply.

Howl found spells for laying tile, for glazing windows, for thatching roofs (probably not the most useful spell with a fire demon in the house), for cutting stone, and carving wood. None of these would be sufficient to make the changes he desired. Frustrated, he turned to Calcifer.

"You said your powers would be mine, didn't you?" Howl began.

"Mmmph. I'm tired. Talk to me tomorrow," said Calcifer sleepily.

Howl persisted. "Don't you want a real hearth? Some room to spread out?"

Calcifer perked up a little, although he still looked half-asleep. Second shelf from the bottom, third book from the right. Page 254. We'll do it tomorrow, hygiene boy."

Howl located the book. Perhaps his uncle was not quite as angry at Howl as he thought. This volume was from Octavius' own library, according to the bookplate, and was handwritten and illuminated. It was different from any book Howl had seen. Howl gently carried it to his worktable, and looked for the spell. The pages were unnumbered, so this took some time, but he finally found it. It required participation from a demon, and a clear understanding by both parties of what was desired. "That shouldn't be hard," Howl thought. "Calcifer knows my every thought." A magical circle, an arcane symbol, demon and magician in proximity—definitely doable. Howl went to sleep with visions of bubble baths in his mind, and a feeling that he might learn more here, by himself, than in the company of wizards. And this was the place where he had seen Sophie. Would he meet her soon?

………..

The spell took less time to work than Howl expected. Most of the time spent was in preparation. Calcifer grumbled at being removed from the firebox, claustrophobic as it was.

"I'm not sure how I feel about being carried around in a shovel, like a lump of ash or a common soot sprite. I'm a demon, Howl. Show me some respect."

Howl smiled, and turned slowly within the circle he had chalked on the floor. A wind emanated from Calcifer as he glowed blue and green, then shot forth flames and grew to fifty times his normal size. The room buckled and shimmered, then settled down.

"Ah. My hearth. Take me there, Howl," said Calcifer imperiously. Howl did as the demon requested. He checked on his new bathroom, then settled into the nearest chair. He looked around. The changes were more than Howl and Calcifer had discussed. Not the bathroom—Howl had been very clear about the degree of luxury required there. And the fireplace was small but open. Perfect for a demon. But other things were a bit strange. They had talked about a rug, yes. But the one Howl saw in front of him was one he remembered from years ago—a handwoven rag rug in the style of the Porthaven weavers' guild. Its intricate rosepath pattern contrasted beautifully with the starkness of the stone floors. His desk was gone, too, replaced with a hand-carved table he vaguely remembered. The strangest thing of all was the heavy door in the wall. Its knob was triangular in shape, and to the right of the lintel was a strange dial, divided into three colored sections

"Calcifer. Why did you do all this? This is not what we discussed!" exclaimed Howl.

"You don't understand," said the demon. "I don't have control over the detail of spells. I only lend you my power. This spell draws on your innermost desires. The rug and furniture are from your parents' house, you know. Your mother made that rug. The door-- well, you'll have to see about that for yourself. But it's something you've thought about for some time, now."

Despite his words, Calcifer seemed enthused at the vicariousness of his situation. He really was a powerful demon. It was about time the boy took advantage. It felt great to do magic again.

Howl walked over to the door, bubble baths forgotten. He opened the door, and saw the meadow. "What's so special about the meadow?" he grumbled. Then he noticed the escutcheon. There was pink paint showing through a round hole in the plate. Howl looked up and saw that the dial above the door was partly pink, and that an iron arrow pointed to this part of the dial. Howl turned the knob to red. The dial also turned, with a metallic chime. Howl opened the door again. "Kingsbury?" he said. He had wanted an easier way to get into town. "No more nausea," he thought, a smile playing on his face. He'd be able to see his friends again! Howl turned the knob again. This time, the dial turned to black. He opened the door, and saw…nothing. He stepped out into the darkness.


	5. Brunch in Porthaven, Dinner in Kingsbury

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader. Thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It means a lot to me!_

**Chapter 5: Brunch in Porthaven, Dinner in Kingsbury**

Howl found himself surrounded by ether. "Calcifer, where am I?" he cried.

"Anywhere you want to be, Howl," was the reply.

"Porthaven, then," thought Howl. "I haven't been there in a while." The ether crystallized into a sunlit sky and sparkling water. Falling, Howl assumed his bird form and soared into the air. Porthaven was not much changed in the 7 years since he had last lived there. The air smelled of salt and wrack and fresh fish. He could see the docks and fishmongers below. It must be early morning. Ships were being unloaded and stores opened, awnings unfurled. Howl decided that a cormorant might be a more appropriate form, given the locale. He landed on a piling and breathed in deeply. How he loved it here! He dropped into the water, and floated on the lapping tide, listening to the noises around him.

He realized he was hungry, and dove deeply for a fish he spied. He emerged, fish in beak, threw back his head and swallowed it whole. Then he held out his wings to dry in the warm sun.

Appetite sated and feathers dry, Howl took to the sky and circled the small town. There below was the weavers' street, and the shop where his mother had worked after his father's death. And there was his old house. Its yellow stucco was cracked and the roof showed signs of disrepair, but it made him smile with happy memories. Howl flew into a nearby alley, and emerged in his human form. He peeked into the window of his childhood home. The house was empty. Light filtered through a hole in the floor. The roof must be in worse condition than he had noticed. In his mind he saw the house as it once was. Howl suddenly felt forlorn.

"Calcifer!" he called to himself. "How do I return?"

"You call yourself a wizard? What do you think? _Think_!" Howl thought of his cottage home. The town of Porthaven faded into darkness, and he saw the new door. He faded through it and headed for the bathroom.

"I was wondering when you'd remember that!" said Calcifer. Howl didn't hear, and was not seen for the next two hours.

Howl emerged with a billow of steam and a waft of fragrance. His hair seemed brighter than of late, and his clothes were more appropriate for the court than this country home.

"I can guess where you're going," Calcifer said. "I wouldn't have shown you the spell if it meant you'd never be home."

"I'm hungry, Calcifer, and the food here gets a little boring after a while."

"Boring? Boring? Try eating turf day in and day out. Do you think you could plant a tree or two for me? Eating dirt is so… humiliating."

Howl laughed. "Don't stay up for me, friend." Howl turned the knob to red and exited into the fine streets of the capital.

He wasn't really hungry. His appetite was not what it used to be and that fish was more than he usually ate in one sitting. But he was hungry for human company. He remembered the names of the cafes where the girls had invited him, and headed to the closest one. He was not disappointed. Three of his classmates were sitting at a table outside, perusing the menu.

"Ladies, did you miss me?" Howl said softly. Three heads looked up abruptly, and three pairs of eyes locked on dazzling blue eyes.

"Oh, Howl!" they cried in unison.

"Where ever have you been?"

"I missed you!"

"You stood me up!" Their words tumbled out in confusion.

"I had to leave suddenly. Didn't you hear?" said Howl.

"They said you took ill," said a girl with cascading curls the color of ripe chestnuts.

"Suliman has quit teaching," said a green-eyed blonde who was clearly green-eyed with envy, as Howl was not looking her way at the moment.

"We hardly ever see her in court. Oh! And she has a page that looks just like you," said the third girl, the best-dressed of the three. "In fact, Maribel thought it _was_ you at first." She smirked. "He really didn't seem to like the attention. He barely said a word to her! You sure were angry, Maribel!" She laughed at the chestnut-haired girl, who threw her a dirty look.

"Howl," cried Maribel, "Will you dine with me tonight? My home is quite close, and it's Friday. No school tomorrow." She smiled triumphantly at her peers.

It was the other girls' turn to throw daggers. How dare she steal Howl for herself! "Howl," broke in Susanna, the green-eyed blonde, "if you dine with Maribel tonight, I insist you be my guest tomorrow."

"And I must see you Sunday, Howl. Will you come to my parents' estate?" asked the well-dressed girl.

"I would be honored, ladies. Maribel, shall we?" he reached for a well-manicured hand, his smile encompassing the three girls. It was hard to feel anything but joy when Howl smiled. "Susanna? Tomorrow at 6, then? Lucinda, Sunday at noon. The Downs? Well then, Maribel, let's be off. You lead the way."

At two that night, Calcifer was awakened by an out-of-tune singing, and the door slamming loudly. Things had gone well for Howl to be sure.

"Will you stop that racket?" Calcifer grumbled. "It's not enough that you leave me here in this gods-forsaken place. Do you have to destroy my hearing as well?"

"Calcifer, you hypocrite," was the reply. "I think you enjoy me visiting those girls more than _I_ do. I could hardly hear myself think with all the comments you were making."

"Not when I can't _see_ them, Howl. For all I know they're the homeliest girls in Kingsbury."

Howl laughed uproariously at this. "Well, then," he said. "Let me tell you all about them."


	6. In Which Howl Finds Love

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader. Thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It means a lot to me!_

**Chapter 6: In Which Howl Finds Love**

Howl had not forgotten about Sophie. It was hard to ignore her presence when he walked across the meadow. Her voice echoed in his mind. How could she help him? What help did he need? And where would he find her? Who was she?

None of this prevented Howl from seeking out the friendship of his classmates, of course. He had neatly compartmentalized his thoughts of Sophie to be separate from the warm glow of adulation he felt when visiting Kingsbury. It felt so good to be the center of attention, to be fawned over and seen as something so special. It required so little in return. Soft comments about a girl's eyes, hands, hair, a gentle arm around the waist and she was his. They did not even mind sharing him! But this could not last. Maribel, Susanna and Lucinda were eighteen, or nearly so, and ready to be married. Each realized (or was told by worried parents) that a boy of thirteen, however handsome and courtly was not an appropriate match. The damage had been done however. Other suitors could not compare to Howl. The girls were saddened and more than a little annoyed to find that the lives that stretched before them would compare poorly to the short time they had spent with Howl. He began to develop a reputation for ruining girls, although he was always a complete gentleman (and only thirteen).

And so Howl moved on. Kingsbury was full of girls, though most were afraid to spend time with a wizard, even a young wizard. Howl recognized quickly that different identities could come in handy. They were even more useful when Howl realized that not all girls were as willing to share him as Maribel, Susanna and Lucinda had been.

Time passed in this way for several years. Howl rose late, studied for a while, spent two or more hours primping, then went out on the town. Not just Kingsbury. Ingary had a number of smaller cities, such as Dalrymple, Coyne and Stockton that were filled with beautiful young women. As Howl grew, he became more handsome and more accomplished as a suitor. He also began to find that these pursuits were somewhat empty at the core. He meant what he said when he praised a girl's charms, but the attraction did not last. The girl would become needy and demanding of him, and less adoring. The parents would insist on chaperones. They would want to meet his parents, to discuss his prospects. Howl would quickly see it was time to move on. Calcifer thoroughly enjoyed Howl's antics. A girl could not find Howl once it was over, as he visited each place through the cottage's black door. Calcifer did not have to hear the girls' cries of pain at being dumped, their parents' threats and entreaties.

………

Howl awoke on his eighteenth birthday to find a small package and letter at the foot of his bed. The letter was from his uncle, as was the gift.

"Dear Howl," it began. "I have not forgotten you. I wish that you could have stayed on with me. However, offending Madame Suliman is a risky business. It was best that you get as far away as possible. It is at some personal risk that I contact you, but today is a special day for you. I wish I could share it with you. You are an adult now. You did disappoint me, young man, by bringing a demon into my home, and secreting it as poorly as you did. I know you can do better than that. Please open the package now."

The package jumped slightly, as if beckoning Howl. "These belonged to your grandmother, my sister. They would have gone to your mother. Please think of her when you wear them. She was so much like you. Your uncle, Octavius."

Howl opened the package and saw a sapphire pendant, a cabochon as blue as his eyes. He quickly slipped the chain over his head. Wrapped in a silk cloth in a corner of the box were two pendant emerald earrings. They glowed as Howl held them up to the light. His ears were unpierced, but changing that was a simple matter, requiring only a small apple, a needle sterilized in Calcifer's flame and a salve to remove the sting. Howl looked at himself in the mirror and saw… his mother. "Calcifer," he said. "Do you think…?"

"Howl, you are so dense sometimes. Don't you remember what you had been thinking of when we made the door? You were thinking of the ribbon of time and space. If you can move from place to place in the present, why not back in time. Sheesh. Took you long enough to figure it out."

Howl jumped up, dumped a pile of logs by the hearth (he had planted some trees after numerous demands by the demon) and ran to the door. "Don't wait up for me, Calcifer. I'll probably be gone for a while!"

……….

All he had to do was think about them, about their time together. The ether shifted, then crystallized. He was back in Porthaven, the Porthaven of seventeen years ago. There was the yellow stucco house. It might surprise them if a man was seen peering into their window, so Howl took the form of a red-winged blackbird—a common bird in the estuary that backed onto the town, and an appropriate form, given that bird's love habits. He peered through the cracked window, and saw his mother and father and a younger version of himself. His dad was dressed in white; a duffel bag rested against his chair. Howl was toddling over to his dad, and smiling up in adoration. His dad, Howl realized, looked a lot like him. They had the same build, the same black hair--or did, Howl thought, realizing his current human color was much closer to his mother's wheaten color. It suited her eyes, which were the same pale blue as his. Hers were much sadder, though. She was holding a letter of some kind in her hand and looked close to tears. "This can't be," she said. "They released you months ago."

"Daisy, Daisy. Don't cry. I'll be back soon. Look, it's only for two months—until they train the new reserve."

His mother bristled. "Daniel! You don't honestly believe that, do you? This woman is different! She'll stop at nothing. Uncle Octavius said—"

"Daisy," his father said gently. "You forget. Uncle Octavius has disowned you. He doesn't have your best interests at heart." She broke down. "Daisy. Darling. Don't worry. I'll be back as soon as I can. Promise." He knelt before her, and lifted her face up to look deeply into her eyes. "It will be okay, Daisy. I love you and Howl. That will protect me."

"Stop," Howl said, both to himself and to his father. The ether swirled around him. "Let me see an earlier time. When they were happy."

Howl spent days in Porthaven, returning briefly to the cottage to feed Calcifer, then rushing out again. He walked with his parents in the park, along the seawall and on the wooden paths that ran through the marshes. He saw them fall in love and elope, and he saw how as an infant he had brought them even closer together. He heard the colic that had given him his name, and their patience in soothing him. He visited over and over until he heard Calcifer in his mind shouting.

"This isn't good, Howl. You can't live in the past! You'll die there. Come home, Howl."

Howl ignored these pleas. He needed to know his parents. He went back to their childhoods. Daniel's impoverished and mean. Daisy's the opposite. How could they have met, let alone fallen in love?

In answer to his question, the ether swirled again. Howl found himself in a familiar place. He was outside his uncle's home. He heard voices. As a great-tailed grackle, he flew to a branch outside the library window and saw his mother as a teenager, talking to a brown-haired Uncle Octavius.

"Please understand, Uncle. This is not what I want. I want more than parties and fine clothes and a husband I won't love. I want to live, Uncle. This is not the place to do that."

"Daisy. Your parents will never understand. Please rethink this."

"What I love is not appreciated here. I love art—doing art. I love creating. What chance will I have to do that here? Goodbye, Uncle. Tell my parents I love them."

A flash and the scene dissolved to a familiar street in Porthaven. His mother seated near a large window, at a pine loom. A rug in progress, her mother stood to beat the weft in place. She turned and saw a young man peering intently at her. He smiled and beckoned. She turned away shyly. He waited outside until her day was done.

Was this what love was like? How different than what Howl had imagined. Would it be this way with Sophie? Was he destined to love her? But how could he without a heart? He suddenly realized how she would save him.


	7. A Witch and a Castle

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader. Thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It means a lot to me!_

**Chapter 7: A Witch and a Castle**

It was time for Howl to set up shop as a wizard. Porthaven seemed the most likely place. A town that small was unlikely to have a wizard, and Howl had such good memories (and his parents' good memories) of the place that it seemed like the perfect place to start his professional life. His childhood home was still vacant, and run-down, and cheaply rented to him. All that remained was to pull up stakes at the meadow. He would need a door to Kingsbury, as he still had friends there, and the door to nowhere/everywhere. He and Calcifer did the moving spell once again, and the cottage door now became the Porthaven door. His mother's rug and hand-woven tapestries made the journey, as did furniture he remembered from his visits to his parents' past, humble though it was. The northernmost town in Ingary, Porthaven was known for its cold, damp winters. An open fireplace was naturally the focus of the room. It suited Calcifer perfectly.

News of Wizard Jenkins spread around the port town quickly, as news usually does in a small place, and soon Howl had more than enough work to keep him busy. Evenings were spent gadding about in Kingsbury or in other towns, where Howl for the first time was able to pay his own way and those of others. He found that spending money came quite easily to him, and was late with the rent more than once. He did have clothes and accessories befitting a wizard, however, and to Howl that seemed more important than food or shelter. Calcifer worried. Porthaven was such a damp place. He wouldn't be able to survive should the pair be evicted. And the womanizing that was still occurring was getting tiresome. So much for Howl's epiphany about Sophie. At the cottage, Howl's serial dating and dumping had not been problematic, as no one had known where they lived, but here it was different. Howl made the mistake of striking up friendships with several Porthaven girls who quickly found out just who Howl was and where he lived. Their wails and pleas were annoying to Calcifer, to say the least, and he longed for the day when Howl would find Sophie. He brought it up quite often in fact, whenever he noticed that Howl's head was out of the clouds.

Howl knew he would meet Sophie someday. In his memory of her, she was a woman of about his current age, so surely they would meet soon. But he needed company, he told himself, and he never really had any male friends. Certainly this was a lame excuse, but Howl kept the person he could be pretty well separated from the person he currently was. He was in this frame of mind as he strolled down a tree-lined avenue in town of Stockton, eyes alert for a suitable young woman with which to pass the afternoon. He had stopped to frown at an ornate fountain portraying the wartime heroics of the king, when he saw a striking woman looking directly at him. She was clearly a witch-- Howl could feel the strength of the spells surrounding her. She was older than his usual choice in women, but he was intrigued nonetheless.

"How may I help you, Madame," he asked with his most enchanting smile.

"You are Wizard Howl, are you not?" the sorceress asked. Without waiting for a reply, she continued, "You and I have a lot in common. Shall I explain?" The woman walked over and seated herself at the edge of the fountain. "Oh," she exclaimed, sensing something hidden about him, "we are more similar than I ever imagined. Tell me, have you guessed who I am?"

"I would guess you are the Witch of the Waste," said Howl, "but you are surely more beautiful than the best descriptions of her." He leaned toward her. "Tell me," he asked, "why are you here?"

"Why to form a partnership, of course. Please, call me Emma. You are right. I am called the Witch of the Waste. A former friend betrayed me, cast me aside so that she could rise to power. I hear that you have escaped her clutches. Do tell me how. The enemy of my enemy is my friend—is this not correct?"

Howl discovered that he and Emma did have a lot in common. Apart from their past with Suliman, they were both rather vain. And both had given their hearts to fire demons. Howl and Emma spent much time together in Stockton, until Howl began to see that Emma was not all that she appeared. On the outside she glowed with beauty, but her interior was dark and twisted. It became clear to Howl that Emma was not interested in him in any normal boy-meets-girl way. She had other motives that showed her true self. Her essence was revenge. It lit her days and warmed her nights. She had been wronged, as Howl had, by a duplicitous woman masquerading as the most virtuous sorceress in the land. She would bring justice. Not through the law, as Suliman _was_ the law, but as a vigilante. Howl could help in her plans for revenge, he realized. And he refused. It was then that Howl saw that Emma had a lot in common Suliman. Like his former master, Emma wanted to possess Howl, to control him. And what she could not have, she would destroy. Howl saw her outer charms dissolve before his eyes. How could he have seen beauty in her? Like the coward that he was, Howl ran.

……

"It wasn't enough to have Suliman black-ball you. It wasn't enough to have half the girls in Ingary looking for you, keening in sorrow. Or their parents vowing revenge. Or shot-gun marriage. Was it, Howl? No. You had to go and get the Witch of the Waste angry at you. How do you get yourself into these scrapes?" yelled Calcifer.

"Yes, Calcifer, you are right. I am shallow. No, I am shallower than shallow. Can we get on with this?"

"Just say the word, O mighty wizard. My powers are at your disposal. Calcifer sulked. This really was getting to be more than he had bargained for.

"I need a home that is movable," Howl was saying. "If she can't find me, she can't have me for dinner."

Calcifer saw an added advantage of such a set-up, although he did not mention it to Howl. With mobility, it would be that much easier to locate Sophie.

"How large a building do you think you could move, Calcifer?"

"Well, it can't have a foundation. That rules most buildings out. It would need wheels or legs of some kind. And over rough terrain, wheels wouldn't be the best choice." Did Howl honestly think he was going to become his chauffeur?

"Legs, then," said Howl, sketching out a preliminary design.

"And metal would certainly be lighter than stone," Calcifer muttered.

"An iron castle. I love it," cried Howl. "Let's get to work."

From Howl's hasty drawings, the sorcerer and his demon drew up a plan for a moving castle. One that would intimidate, to keep away nosy townsfolk, yet be agile enough to roam about in the rocky areas of the waste. With a slight modification of the moving spell, their ideas became reality. The Porthaven home was embedded within the iron castle, which looked surprisingly like a scrap-heap when viewed up close. The door and dial had been modified to lead onto Kingsbury, where Howl was planning to set up a second shop, as much of the gossip about him had finally died down. The door to Porthaven and the door to nowhere/everywhere remained. A new place on the dial was made for a door to the waste. Howl exited through this door to inspect his handiwork. Calcifer heard him admire the chicken-like legs of the castle and feathered shingles by the entrance. We need to find Sophie soon, Calcifer realized. Howl seemed to becoming more avian daily.


	8. In Which Howl Grows Up

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader. Thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It means a lot to me!_

**Chapter 8: In Which Howl Grows Up. **

Howl woke up to a grey and miserable day. Well, so much for spending his twenty-first birthday day in Porthaven, he grumbled to himself. He stumbled downstairs, hair tousled from sleep, grunted at Calcifer (who looked very peaceful on such a miserable morning) and headed for the castle door. His head pounded from the excesses of the night before. Howl turned the doorknob to red. Kingsbury would be a much more fitting place for such a special day. He opened the door and looked out. How could it be that the weather was even worse? He slammed the door and turned the knob again. Alas, it was pouring on the wastes as well (it often did there). The door was slammed again, and the knob turned rapidly to black. Stockton? Rain. Coyne? Rain. Dalrymple. Just beginning to drizzle. "How can it be, Calcifer, that in a country the size of Ingary, with four time zones, palms and ice, that I cannot find weather befitting the glorious majesty of this day?" Howl did not wait for an answer, instead stomping off to the bathroom. "Run hot water for my bath, Calcifer."

"I hate it when he's like this," thought Calcifer aloud. "You would think he was having a mid-life crisis, the way he's been acting lately." Calcifer toyed with idea of sending icy-cold bathwater to Howl, but decided no good could come of that, not in Howl's present mood. He reached for a log and got to work instead.

Two hours later, Howl emerged, a changed person. The sun had come out, and Howl's hangover appeared to have been cured, as his typical good mood was fully restored. A delightful smile played on his lips and a new suit graced his thin, elegant form.

"Well, birthday boy, what pleasures await?" asked Calcifer, glad of this change in mood.

"I thought I'd go for a stroll in Porthaven, try to drum up some new business."

That couldn't be it, thought Calcifer. Howl was in far too good a mood for such a mundane activity. And besides, he could tell when Howl was lying. He did own his heart, after all. "Don't tell me then, Howl. I really wouldn't expect it."

Howl spun on his heel, his golden hair flying, his eyes flashing. "Whatever do you mean, Calcifer? There are no secrets between us. You know as well as I did that I saw a delightful young lady in the market yesterday, and I decided calling on her would be quite a birthday treat. It will just be more fun to pretend I've happened upon her by accident. I'll see you in a bit."

Howl turned the knob to Porthaven and stepped out, waving to Calcifer as he did so. He promptly tripped over a hessian-wrapped bundle nestled into the doorway. Howl swore and rose slowly from his prone position at the bottom of the stairs. He'd dirtied his splendid patchwork coat and scuffed the toes of his new boots. He leaned against the banister and remedied these small imperfections. He took a good look at the bundle. It was shivering. Sartorial complaints were forgotten as Howl gently pulled back the edge of burlap sack to uncover a small, auburn-haired boy.

"Come inside," Howl said gently. "We'll fix you up right away." Howl removed his jacket and wrapped it around the boy. "Would you like some cocoa?" he asked soothingly.

……

Once he was sure the boy was warm and had enough to eat, Howl laid a blanket on the chaise and left the young boy in the care of Calcifer.

"You're a demon, aren't you?" said the boy. "They said the wizard had demon powers, but you're not as scary as I expected."

Calcifer was a bit taken aback by the boy's candor. He considered flaring up and showing the boy he was indeed a powerful fire demon, then realized the boy meant no harm. He just spoke his mind, like all young children, unfiltered by tact or pretense. Actually, he kind of liked this boy. "Did you sleep all night on the steps?" he asked.

The boy nodded, his mouth full of scone.

"In the rain? Where are your parents?"

"Please. They're gone." The boy's eyes welled with tears. "Do you think I could stay here?"

…….

Howl could not find the girl he had seen in the market, though he searched for a full fifteen minutes. How else would this day conspire against him? He stopped at a market and purchased a seedcake. Why had he been in such a bad mood lately, he wondered. This was just a birthday. The three girls he was seeing would each give him a lovely gift and the fawning attention he so craved. But he knew the truth. This wasn't just a birthday. At 18 he became a man, but today he was an adult. It was time to lay down the playthings of his youth. The problem was, he really didn't want to. And what trick was this Fate played on him this morning? He would have to take the boy in—how could he not? It was so clear that this young boy (was Markl his name? so strange) needed a roof over his head. It was clear he had no one. "What a fine birthday gift," Howl muttered. As if in answer to his words, the sky opened, and Howl swore.

…….

Markl was a diligent apprentice, and Howl found that he was truly an asset. With two shops to run, Howl had more than enough to keep him busy. With Markl there, Howl could spend more time gallivanting. But there was more to it than that, Howl realized. He saw himself in the boy, in his unwavering devotion and willingness to please. In his eagerness to learn. Howl realized quickly he wanted the best for this child, and that he would do whatever he could for him.

Something had changed, Howl realized. He was dreaming about her every night. He would awaken, feeling his arms around her, his lips caressing her satin hair, and wish he knew her. His mind would replay the glimpse he had seen of her—her eyes filled with compassion and hope, and a love so unconditional that it knew no bounds. He had to find her.


	9. In Which Howl Searches

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader. Thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It means a lot to me!_

**Chapter 9: In Which Howl Searches.**

Howl examined the map of Ingary. An island nation, most of its cities and towns were close to the water. This was of necessity, not choice. The inland was covered by the moors and rocky outcroppings of the waste. No roads led into the waste, only footpaths. The land was useless for farming or grazing or any other activity that might support a family. "That rules out a lot of the country." Howl thought. He used a ruler to divide the map into wedges, as though he were cutting up a wheel of cheese. He would start here, near Porthaven, the northernmost point of the map, and work his way clockwise around the country.

In the past weeks, Howl had applied himself relentlessly to the books, seeking out a locating spell he might use to find his Sophie. Locating spells were part of the fourth year sorcery curriculum, and Howl could do them in his sleep. Unfortunately, they required something—anything—that belonged to the person being located, and Howl owned nothing of Sophie's, having never met her physically. Howl had found out, frustratingly, that the door to nowhere/everywhere could not take him to Sophie in the here and now, only to the Sophie of 9 years ago on the night he met Calcifer. Howl concluded that there was no incantation that would allow him to locate Sophie. He would have to track her down by brute force, it seemed.

"Well, Calcifer," he said aloud. "It's genius we built legs onto the castle. How serendipitous."

"Ah, Howl," thought Calcifer, glad the wizard could not read _his_ thoughts. "It's good I plan more than one day in advance."

"Calcifer, let's get started," Howl said, folding the map, and laying it carelessly on top of a stack of books. "Move the castle 5 miles southwest, until we are within distance of Canberra. And heat hot water for my bath. If I'm going to find Sophie, I want her to like what she sees."

Howl settled into his bath, and laid his head back against the sloping side of the tub. A dreamy smile lit his fine features as he thought of the day ahead. What would she be like, his Sophie? Of her radiance, and the beauty emanating from her he had no doubt. He imagined them together, strolling down some nameless cobblestoned street, her tiny hand in his, her face turned toward him, her eyes shining with adoration. But that was not any different than any of the hundreds of women he had spent time with. This would, must be different. He thought about the many women he had courted in the past year alone (before then was too difficult—their faces flowed together in his mind). What had made Jessica different than Daniela, different than Eloise? He realized that he really did not know. They had all loved him, at first, and most even after. They all had blushed at his touch and stared at him adoringly. Some were more coquettish than others, and one or two had caught onto him (and he hated to admit, dumped him first—dark days, those), but he saw how little he knew about women individually. Yes, he would learn whatever was necessary to pique the interest of his conquest-to-be. If she liked cooking, he was a chef. Sailing? A yachtsman. But he never learned what made these girls tick, their inner passions, their fears, their hopes. What were Sophie's interests? What would she think of his profession? Of his pastimes up until now? She was sure she'd like Markl, but would she like _him_? Howl sunk below the water's surface and realized he was afraid.

……

Howl returned late that evening, well after sun-down.

"Did you find many girls in the dark, Howl?" asked Calcifer. "I wouldn't think Sophie would be one of those."

Howl chose to ignore that last remark. "As you well know, my flaming friend, I thought it would be good to check the local taverns to see if anyone knew of a girl matching Sophie's description."

"You must have been thirsty," Calcifer smirked.

Howl laughed. "Yes. So were many of the residents of Canberra. I think I can say safely that Sophie does not live here." Howl ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "I really thought I would find her, Cal. I really thought this was the day."

"Howl. You're drunk. Go to bed and get some rest. We'll find her. Only you would think it would happen in only hours."

…….

Over the next weeks they worked their way down the coast. At first they started with larger towns, but as time progressed Howl wondered if they should check the smaller villages and resorts dotting the shore. Howl also had the sense that he was being followed. He could feel the tingle of sorcery as he walked through these towns, almost as if someone had placed a locating spell on him. He took a break from his searching, cursing his foolishness in rushing right out to find Sophie without taking precautions. Why hadn't he considered that Emma might be looking for him? She was said to live nearby. He placed spells to distract and obfuscate on the cottage, and built a series of charms to provide him with ongoing reports. "Calcifer, take us closer to Kingsbury. I have a feeling that witch is on our trail."

"Next stop, Market Chipping," said Calcifer, stoking his engines. "And Howl? I think you're right."

………

Howl had worked out a plan for assessing each town he visited. Sophie had not been dressed poorly, but not extravagantly, either. She had not used the slang of the lowest classes nor the drawl of the aristocracy. That ruled out the wharves, the poorest streets in each town, and the streets where homes of noblemen might be found. She was obviously not of noble blood, but neither was she a common servant. He was disappointed to find that this strategy would not work here. Market Chipping, he could see, was solidly middle class, its citizenry grounded in trade and craft. He began his search instead near the center of town. An ornate fountain filled much of the central square, it's ormolu figures blindingly bright. Howl squinted (unbecomingly, he thought) and startled. That red haired woman with the hansom nearby. That could only be Emma. He turned on his heel and walked quickly away. A footbridge crossed over a busy street. Howl walked across then glided quickly down its stairs to the traffic below. He slipped down an alley and leaned against a wall, breathing heavily. He'd given her the slip. Howl stood, smoothed back his hair, brushed off his favorite patchwork coat (the red collar setting off his blond hair) and walked on. The bayonets and duffels of enlisted men were piled at one end of the alley. Market Chipping was a point of shipping out for the royal army, he realized. What a day this was turning into, Howl thought.

He wouldn't have typically walked down an alley such as this. Only the backs of shops and restaurants were visible. He doubted he would find the light of his life back here in such a dreary place. He saw two soldiers up ahead, laughing, obviously enjoying their last day as free men. A petite girl turned into the alley, stopped for a moment, then tentatively walked ahead, right past Howl, engrossed in the note she was carrying. What pleasant features she had, what lovely eyes. The only thing he'd change, he thought, was the long plait running down her back. Her hair, Howl mused. Her hair! If it were silver… Sophie!

"Howl, what is it?"

"Calcifer, I've found her! I swear I've seen Sophie." Howl hurried ahead to find his light standing still in the alley, her path blocked by the two happy soldiers. He could see her trembling slightly, as she stood up to them.

"Darling," Howl said, meaning every word of it. "I'm sorry I'm late. I've been looking for you everywhere."

The girl stiffened, and looked up at him in near fright. Yes, it was Sophie. Those were her eyes, that was her face. Even the dress looked similar. With a small stroke of magic, the soldiers marched away and Howl offered to take his dear Sophie wherever she was going. Amazingly, she agreed and they set off together.


	10. In Which Howl Reflects

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader. Thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It means a lot to me!_

**Chapter 10 In Which Howl Reflects**

They had spent only five minutes together, yet he felt as if he'd known her forever. She had been quieter than he'd expected and as lovely as he had hoped. She was different than his usual sort, though. Her beauty was subtle; it did not announce itself forcefully. As they'd walked along the alley, Howl had warned her that he was being followed and apologized, in his way, for involving her. He did not count on his pursuers being oozing black emanations. Her eyes wide, Sophie had gasped when she saw these creatures, and again as Howl had lifted her up in his arms. He treasured the stolen embrace. She was light as a feather, really, her body soft and warm. She seemed dazed, understandably, by the events she was witnessing. But she had come around quickly, as Howl had walked with her over the rooftops, gently holding her hands. She quickly became delighted at this dance they did from slate to shingle to weather vane. Perhaps there was more to her than the timid mouse the soldier had described.

Arriving at her destination, Howl gently lowered Sophie to the balcony of the bakery building. He wanted to enfold her in his arms and kiss her but did not dare frighten her further. He would court her properly and earn her love. He could not resist calling her "his girl," however, but she did not appear to be listening. Once again she seemed dazed, breathless. He left to draw off Emma's blob-men and smiled to himself. He would have no problem finding Sophie again. While reaching for her hand, he had stolen the handkerchief tucked into her sleeve.

Perched on a rooftop at the edge of town, Howl examined the handkerchief. It was made of fine white lawn, with even finer white embroidery—the work of a master seamstress. In simple, elegant initials were written her initials: S.H. Sophie. Howl. The cloth carried a light fragrance that Howl inhaled deeply. Howl became a raven and flew back home to begin the location spell, handkerchief clutched in his claw. Winged dirigibles passing above him were proof of Howl's distraction. He did not see these tools of war, which would normally upset him.

Sophie would be surprised tomorrow when he showed up at her door. At two a.m., after many hours discussing his new love with Calcifer, Howl cast the location spell, placing the handkerchief, a candle, and a silver bowl into a triangle he chalked on his worktable. He filled the bowl with clean, fresh rainwater, and waited for the ripples to subside. He took the handkerchief and carefully set it aflame. It burned quickly, its thin fabric crackling as it was consumed. He dropped the flaming cloth into the bowl and watched as its ashes slowly settled to the bottom of the bowl. He waited again, for the water to become still. Sophie, he saw, as he scanned the quieted reflection, was asleep in the rooms above a hat shop in the fashionable section of the high street. The vision he scryed was as clear as if he were kneeling by her bed. Her hair splayed across the pillow, she breathed shallowly, a picture of beauty.

Howl could not resist exploring Sophie's house, eager to find out as much about his girl as possible. How strange that her room was so simple compared to the others. The room he inferred was her mother's was dominated by a vanity covered in cosmetics and perfumes. An opulent damask bedspread covered her bed, and fashionable dresses spilled out of a half-open wardrobe. The sisters (Howl could see there were two) had rooms that were much more similar to their mother's than to Sophie's. Howl traveled downstairs to a parlor, cozy in the golden hues of a gas lamp that had been left on. He moved across a small courtyard to the shop, where, he realized, Sophie must work. Howl saw a display case filled with hats decorated in the latest style. His Sophie had seemed much too shy to be a counter girl. He looked around a room, and saw a smaller room, a niche, really, at the back of the store. This was where his Sophie worked, he knew immediately. A stack of unfinished hats lay on the counter, a golden scissors in the shape of a stork beside them. He saw a tiny thimble that could only fit Sophie's small fingers. Howl smiled to himself, and the scene clouded over. It was time for bed. He would sleep well tonight, secure in the knowledge that Sophie would soon be his.

…….

At precisely 10 a.m. (an absurdly early hour), Howl arrived at the door of the family hat shop, white rose in hand. "Hatters." the store's hanging sign said. "F. Hatter, proprietor," read a smaller plaque on the door.

"Not the most original name for a shop," Howl smiled as he raised his hand to knock on the door. The store was not yet open, unlike all others in the street. Its windows were shuttered, and he could see no signs of life when he peered through the glass of the front door. Howl felt a tingle of magic when he touched the door handle. Had something happened?

Howl ran the several blocks to Cesari's bakery. Mustering his charm, he asked the closest serving girl if she were related to a brown-haired girl named Sophie. The girl said "No," and smiled at him hopefully. Howl thought he might have more luck at the front counter. He waved a hand, parting the mob of townsmen and soldiers who were clamoring over a pretty young server named Lettie.

"Lettie," Howl said clearly. The voices around him became muted. "Do you happen to have a sister named Sophie?"

The beautiful Lettie froze, dropping the plate full of crullers she had been about to set in the display case. "How do you know my sister?" Regaining her composure, she pulled Howl toward the back exit. "Are you the wizard my sister met yesterday?"

Howl stared at this young woman, so unlike Sophie, yet so protective of her. It was obvious that Sophie was loved. He decided to be honest for once (a skill rarely practiced around ladies as pretty as this Lettie.) "Yes," he replied. "I met your sister yesterday, and found her quite enchanting. I hoped to meet her again today, but she is not in her shop."

"Then you don't know?"

Howl grew impatient. "Know what? Please tell me, where is Sophie?"

"We don't know!" Lettie cried. "She disappeared sometime this morning. There was no note. She took nothing with her. It is so unlike her!" A sob caught in Lettie's throat. It was Howl's turn to look shocked, his pale skin growing even paler. "I thought she'd left with you," Lettie continued. "I thought that you were that horrible wizard Howl. I warned her to be careful. "

"This can't be," he said softly, as he staggered out of the bakery, unhearing. "This cannot be."

Howl searched every place in Market Chipping where he thought he might find a young girl (and he could think of plenty of places); and every other place as well. He quizzed shopkeepers, shop girls and clerks, barmaids and greengrocers. None had seen Sophie, although many spoke well of the shy girl who worked at the hat shop. As a common black hawk, he searched the countryside. As night fell, he became as a sooty owl, his large, pale eyes detecting the slightest movements in the darkness. No sign of her anywhere, and it was getting cold out. Exhausted, Howl roosted in a barn adjoining the waste, and considered what to do next. At 7 a.m. he awoke in his human form. Forgetting where he was, Howl stretched and promptly fell off the rafter into soft hay below. He groaned and headed home to the castle.


	11. In Which Howl Is Surprised

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader. Thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It means a lot to me!_

**Chapter 11: In Which Howl Is Surprised**

Howl walked slowly into his castle, head down, silently cursing his luck. His body was sore from his fall from the rafters, and the events of the past day and night had left him utterly dejected. He trudged up the short flight of stairs that led to the common room of the castle. A long bath was what he needed. He raised his head, about to direct Calcifer to do the chore he detested most, when he saw…her. Yes, it was definitely his Sophie, although she had been transformed into a nonagenarian (at the very least).

"Calcifer!" he hissed within his mind. "Why didn't you tell me? I was worried sick! What is wrong with you? What is wrong with _her_?"

"Well, Howl, after Emma I thought you had taken a liking to the older ladies. Is she not your type after all?" Calcifer shot back. Of course, Sophie was oblivious to this telepathic conversation. And even if she could hear, she probably wouldn't have been listening. It appeared she had worries of her own.

He would _not_ call her "Grandma Sophie," although she had requested this. Yes, this was clearly Sophie, his _young_ Sophie. The transformation, he noted critically, was not a complete success. She moved and spoke too quickly for a person of that age. Her intonation and choice of words were those of a young woman, and he noticed she blushed quite easily, too. His Sophie was still there.

Howl commented on Sophie's unique ability to get Calcifer to follow her commands, and couldn't resist asking her how she came to be in his home. Had she and Calcifer struck some deal, he wondered? If so, he'd never tell Howl. Howl smiled inside, at her far-fetched excuses she made to explain her presence in his home. No extemporaneous speaker was she, and no liar either. He had hoped she would admit that she was here to see him, but it was clear that this was not it. She was surprised, he could see, that the man she had met yesterday was in fact the horrible Wizard Howl. She desperately did not want him to recognize her, he realized. It was just his luck, Howl thought, that the girl of his dreams would come to live in his home, by his side, in the form of… an old bat. And on top of that, pretend she didn't know him.

Howl gently pushed Sophie aside as she tended to breakfast and covered her gnarled hand with his own smooth one as he relieved her of the frying pan she held. Bespelled or not, he needed to touch her, to make sure that she was real. She felt as warm and smelled as sweet as the Sophie of yesterday, he noted. Things could be much worse. He found that if he tried hard, the spell surrounding Sophie would begin to disintegrate. He caught a glimpse of her beautiful face before the spell resolidified into wrinkles and age spots. Was this somehow his fault?

"Isn't it always?" asked Calcifer.

"Calcifer, don't just sit there. Help me get this spell off her!" Howl thought back. Why was Calcifer so grumpy lately?

Together, they tried to lift the spell as Sophie sat down at the table and Markl handed her a food-encrusted spoon. "It's not working. Confound it!" Howl hid his raging emotions and calmly walked over to the worktable to push aside some texts and serve breakfast.

Some wine-lovers can tell the exact location where a wine has been bottled, its vintage, its maker. Howl could sense the same of spells. He was certain that this one was one of Emma's. So she had caught up with him, sensed his feelings for Sophie, and punished an innocent girl. But when had this happened? When Howl had looked in on her at 2 a.m., Sophie had been her beautiful, young self, sleeping peacefully.

Howl knew that Emma's strong suit was not subtlety. She would want Howl to know without doubt that it was she who had done this to Sophie. Howl sensed a message on Sophie's person and asked Sophie to hand him the note in her pocket. Surprised by its presence, and perhaps even by the existence of a pocket in her dress, Sophie passed it to him. The note's contents (not to mention its electric delivery and dramatic finish) confirmed Howl's suspicions. It _was_ his fault. He swore again in his mind and stood quickly, scraping his uneaten breakfast into the grate. (Where was his appetite lately?) Howl issued some curt instructions to Calcifer and went up to think where he thought best—in the comfort of a steaming hot bath.

……

Howl sat on the top stair and leaned his head against the banister to get a better view of the activity in the room below. Sophie appeared to be on a rampage. He hardly recognized the common room free of cobwebs and dust, dirt and grime. He marveled at her energy and smiled at her spirit. "No, she is not a little mouse at all," he thought. Still, the tidying up bothered him as it always had. She might hurt herself—unfinished spells were lying about. And how would he find anything if this cleaning frenzy continued?

Calcifer was calling Sophie, begging her to replace him in the fire. She ignored him, which put Howl out a bit. How could she do that do his heart? He strode to the hearth, and poured a poor-looking Calcifer into his palm. He gently breathed on the demon. Immediately his heart began to beat more regularly and Calcifer began to glow more brightly. He replaced the demon and his heart in the grate. He gently admonished Sophie and left through the door to nowhere/everywhere. He would need help to break her spell.


	12. A Visit With Octavius

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader. Thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It means a lot to me!_

**Chapter 12: A Visit With Octavius**

As he left the cottage through the black portal, Howl focused on Kingsford, a coastal town to the southwest of Kingsbury where his uncle summered. He would most likely find him there. Immediately, the ether crystallized into an inferno. The town of Kingsford was being bombed with weapons of hideous cruelty. Howl took his cormorant form and raced high above the fighting. He could see the port, its water ablaze. The smell of burning diesel fuel scorched his nostrils. Howl looked due west, to the site of his uncle's home, and saw only flames. If his uncle had been here, he was no longer. Howl swallowed tears of anger, and flew inland.

Howl traveled for a while, northeast along the river that stretched from Kingsford to Kingsbury, one of the many birds that was escaping the fires. These birds, he noticed, kept their distance from him. How strange. Usually he was as attractive to birds of his own species (whichever it was) as he was to humans. Howl circled low over a glassy pond, and landed on a half-immersed snag. He gazed at himself in the pond's clear reflection. Something was terribly wrong. He had the general shape of a cormorant, its strong feet and broad wings. But his head was his own—his human head. His body was Howl-size, not bird-size. For once, he realized, Suliman had spoken the truth. His transformations were beginning to have monstrous effects.

Howl flew on to Kingsbury, landing in an empty meadow just outside the city limits, to be sure no one could see his chimeric form. With an effort, Howl assumed his human form and walked across the familiar town, to the home where he had spent six years of his life. Hopefully, he would find his uncle here, distracted and uncommunicative as ever. It had been clear from the letter Howl had received several years before that his uncle had not been angry at him. He had sent him away out of concern, not shame. Howl lifted the door's gleaming brass knocker and rapped on the door. It was opened by a somewhat older version of the girl who had once cleaned his rooms. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her nose raw.

"It's you, Howl, isn't it? How did you hear? Come in. Please."

Howl entered his former home. The mirrors were draped with black cloth, and the lamps were dimmed. A man he recognized as Uncle Octavius' solicitor sat in the parlor staring at an etching of Octavius as a young man. He looked up as Howl came into the room and greeted him warmly.

"Ah, Howl, you've come at last. My office tried and tried to reach you, but could not find your place of business. You've heard, I assume, the terrible news about your uncle."

Howl shook his head, his face a mask. "It's true then. I journeyed into Kingsford today to visit Octavius and saw the devastation. I needed to talk with him."

"And he needed to talk to you. Howl, last week he left this letter for you. It was most important to him that you read it immediately after his death. He seemed to know it was coming." The solicitor frowned. Octavius was a good friend, but these wizards and their strange ways were so hard to understand. Why wasn't this nephew weeping?

"Please call upon me when things become more settled. There is the matter of Mr. Pendragon's estate. You are the beneficiary, young man." The solicitor stood, replacing the etching on the table where it had stood.

Howl did not hear. He had broken the wax seal on the letter and the magical spell underneath. He stood by the window to see more clearly. He read:

_"My dear Howl,_

_I have never told you how l have thought of you as a son. I see now that I will be unable to say these words to you in person, so a letter must suffice. I regret this deeply. Your mother may not have told you this (in fact, she may not have realized it herself), but of all my nephews and nieces she was my favorite. She was headstrong, her spirit was free and she was willing to do what she thought was right, no matter the cost—these were things I have seen in very few people. What you may not realize, even if you have mastered the spells to go back in time (and I would guess that you have), is that you, Howl, are so much like Daisy. You are truly her son. I know, too, that you are like your father, Daniel. I never met him, but in many talks your mother told me about him. His gentleness and ability to love completely drew her to him. He loved you, Howl, as he loved your mother._

_I wish that I'd had the courage and strength to stand up to your grandparents when your mother eloped. They could not see the love your mother and father had for each other. Love truly knows nothing of class, or race, or color. It sees beauty where others may not and finds joy where others see sorrow. And love is unconditional. It is gentle in the face of anger and forgiving of transgressions. These are things your grandparents never understood. During the war that took your father's life, Daisy spent years alone with no family but you to support her in her grief. I know that she called this "the war for no reason." Of course, this was correct. The war began just after the King's coronation. Its only purpose was to bring him the glory and adulation that only a bloody victory can. Its architect was someone you know very well, Howl._

_I knew of the fire demon long before you were sent away, Howl, although I am sure you did not realize this. It was hard to ignore him in a house as enchanted as mine. But Suliman's purpose for you, and her unhealthy interest in you worried me. This is why I sent you away when she and I found the demon in your room. Please be careful._

_Lastly, Howl, I have spied on you, although I am ashamed to admit this. It was difficult to go these many years without contact with you, so this I did out of concern. I have seen love and loss in your life again and again. Perhaps you think your contract with the demon prevents you from loving fully. My son, this is not true. You have been loved, and you will love. Trust in Fate._

_With love,_

_Your Uncle Octavius"_

Howl buried his face in his hands, collapsed into a nearby chair and wept.


	13. A Howl of Rage

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader. Thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It means a lot to me!_

**Chapter 13: A Howl of Rage**

Howl sat in the twilight. He'd wept for several hours, and for various reasons. He wept, of course, for Uncle Octavius. He owed the man so much, and would have liked to have known him better. He wept for his mother and father. Octavius, he had found out too late, had been a person who could have told him stories about his mother, could have shared his impressions of her and _her_ impressions of Howl's father. These things were not knowable to Howl, despite the time he'd spent in their past. And Howl wept for himself, for the series of losses he had endured, old and new. Even Sophie was a loss. She was under an enchantment he was unable to break, and the person who could help him was gone. Yes, Howl was powerful, but there were at least 50 spells he could think of that could be used to age a person, and the problem was that the cure for one spell could exacerbate another. Uncle Octavius had so much more experience than he did, and had studied under the Witch of the Waste while she was still a lecturer at the Academy. Howl was sure he would have known—or might have witnessed—the type of spell enchanting Sophie.

Howl left his uncle's home, walked to the empty field on the edge of the city, and took his martin form, though he knew it would be distorted. Even the beauty of transformation was to be lost to him, it seemed. Howl's sadness quickly turned to rage. He was angry-- angry about so many things, but at his uncle, most of all. They had spent so much time in the same home during Howl's academy years. Why couldn't he have spared just a few minutes, every now and then, to talk to Howl about his mother-- especially as she had been his favorite? A simple story about his mom would have done so much to mitigate the constant loneliness Howl had felt, and it really wouldn't have taken much effort. Just a few brief steps out of the shell his uncle had worn for so long, and then back again, no harm done. But so much gained.

And why, oh why, couldn't he have stood up to Howl's grandparents? If he had known and believed in his parents' love how could he have stood by while they were pushed out of the family? Things might have been so different. Howl remembered the many days his mother had sat waiting for his father, and later, the many more days she had lain in bed, eyes vacant, face devoid of expression. With a family, more family than Howl alone, things would have been different. He was sure of this. If Octavius had stood up for his parents earlier, maybe his grandparents would have helped her through her sadness. And where had Octavius been during his mother's last days? Invertebrate. Jellyfish.

And just who did Octavius think he was to spy on Howl? Wasn't it enough that his every thought and dream was open to Calcifer's interpretation? Why couldn't he have paid Howl a visit if he wanted so badly to catch up? Trust in Fate? What had Fate ever done for Howl that was worth discussing?

As Howl climbed into the sky his anger was fueled by the sight he saw below. The flames he had seen in Kingsford early in the day were on the move. The small towns and villages to the southwest of the capital were being bombarded by the enemy's fantastic aerial weapons of destruction. Kingsbury itself was strangely untouched, as though a crystal dome protected its inhabitants from onslaught. Howl had heard no signs of attack while leaving the city (he would not have heard them earlier, given his state of mind), and residents on their after dinner stroll appeared undisturbed by rumors of attack. He circled the edge of the city, and flew back and forth across the city limits. Yes, he could feel magic at work here, one that had most likely taken a gathering of wizards. Suliman and those she had summoned had engineered a huge spell to protect the king's city from errant rockets and bombs. The king would not have to suffer any indignities of war, it seemed, and could play the general without being offended by its aftermath.

An air freighter approached, bombs at the ready. Perhaps its pilots had seen Howl's curious weaving in and of the city, or his curious form. From the freighter's bow, a steady stream of wizards emerged. Were some of them his classmates once? Howl stared at their bizarre physical manifestation. In their sycophancy they had aped the form Suliman had shown them so long ago. Her mighty dragon's wings were echoed in a derivative fashion. They had gotten the purple veining right, but little else. They were more like flying lizards, Howl thought, overfed flying lizards with poor fashion sense. Even in his disfigured form, as a bird of human size with vision to match, Howl easily outmatched his enemy. With his swallow's wings and forked tail, built for maneuvering precisely and with little warning, Howl barreled into the crowd of flapping reptiles and sent them reeling into the air. Recovering, they gave chase as Howl soared into the sky. Howl thought fast, and a ring of storm clouds covered his exit. The lizards, confused by the sudden change in weather, dispersed.

The sun was almost up as Howl entered his home. He smelled of death—burnt flesh, Calcifer told him. Howl struggled to regain his human form and did not need to be reminded of the dangers of continued transformation into his familiar. If he were to choose one form in which to live out his days, it would surely be his extremely handsome human form, not the bird-man form he had tried on today. What would he do about Suliman, he wondered. He would not be her henchman. And what had Octavius meant when he wrote, "be careful" ? The bath would be the best place to think about these things.

Howl rose slowly, stretching his long limbs, and moved toward the stairs. He heard a sigh, and looked for its source. He noticed the alcove, its green curtains drawn. Sophie must be sleeping there, he thought. He should have offered her his own room, he realized. What must she think of him? Howl gently pushed the curtain aside and reflected on what he saw, a girl of eighteen, not the great-grandmother of this morning. How beautiful she was. He realized why he had not recognized her enchantment the night before when he'd cast the locating spell. In sleep the spell ebbed, allowing her beautiful, perfect self to emerge. Howl resisted the urge to kiss his Sophie. It might frighten her. Howl also knew it wouldn't break the enchantment. He now had more information, although he still was not sure exactly which spell was at work. Howl climbed the stairs with yet another puzzle to ponder as he bathed.


	14. In Which Howl Realizes He Is in Love

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader. Thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It means a lot to me!_

**Chapter 14: In Which Howl Realizes He Is in Love**

A bubble bath always worked, Howl thought, luxuriating in the warmth of his surroundings. It was nice that the tub was clean, sparkling, in fact—it certainly added to the experience. Howl stretched his long legs and propped them on the far end of the tub. His body was sore from yesterday's flying and fighting. Although the muscles he'd used yesterday had transformed back into his human flesh, the fatigue lingered. Transformation was a funny business. It did wonders for his skin—it was as though his body made itself over when he transformed back into a human. Any nicks or blemishes healed themselves as his body's tissues reorganized themselves. His hair, cut just the day before was shaggy again. In transforming from feathers back to hair it had grown quite a bit. His roots were probably showing. He'd need to color it again.

Howl used his toes to pull the tub's stopper and turned the tap to add more hot water to his bath. He settled back to contemplate the events of the day before. He was no longer angry at his uncle, he realized. All human are weak. Howl himself was a great example of this, given his propensity to run at the first hint of conflict or responsibility. Howl reviewed Octavius' letter in his mind. Octavius was not a natural spy. He had given Howl a wide berth in his home, plenty of privacy out of respect for his individuality. For Octavius to act so out of character, he must have been very worried. "Be careful," his letter had said, after telling him of Suliman. Howl thought back to the conversation he'd had with his three former classmates, years before. The chestnut-haired girl (what was her name?) had mentioned a page of Suliman's who looked surprisingly like Howl. It couldn't be coincidence, Howl thought. Howl was bound by oath to answer the summons sent by Suliman in the name of the king. What lay in store for him when he did so? Howl sighed. Where could he run? How far could she track him?

Think of something else, Howl ordered himself. Sophie. He smiled as he thought of the sight that had greeted him just hours before. She was so peaceful, so beautiful in her sleep. Just yesterday he had thought she was lost to him, but the possible spells affecting her were more limited than he had thought. Perhaps he would be able to help her. "Trust in Fate," Octavius had written. What did he mean?

Howl stepped out of the tub, dripping water on the small, hexagonal tiles, which were in fact white. Howl had not been too sure of this given the usual state of the bathroom. He reached for a towel, and smelled an afternoon of warm breezes and sunshine. Sophie, again. He smiled. Now to tint and cut his hair. He absentmindedly reached for the three rightmost bottles on the top shelf, and poured a splash of each into a beaker he magicked into existence. A quick swirl to mix them and onto his hair the solution went. He bent over the sink to avoid sullying the now gleaming floor. He stood to check the progress of this spell in the mirror which was functional now that the spatters of toothpaste and emollients had been removed. Howl gasped. His hair was... orange! He screamed, and looked at the three bottles he had mixed together. "Sophie!" he yelled and rushed from the room, stumbling in his haste.

Did she really hate him that much? She was supposed to love him! Every other woman he'd met had done so quite readily. But she had made him hideous. Hideous! Yes, she'd tried to console him as he'd removed the spell, turning his hair to its normal, raven hue. She had told him his dark hair was lovely. But Howl would have none of it. At her touch, he allowed his feelings to manifest themselves in the form of a sticky, malodorous slime. He felt Sophie recoil. After all that had happened in recent days, he deserved a good wallow in self-pity. He needed her—or someone—to fawn over him, to give him her complete attention. To tell him he was her everything, her beautiful prince, her love. Again, she surprised him. She cried out. She had never been beautiful, she said. She ran from the castle. Howl's feelings got the better of him. Why couldn't he understand her? He exuded slime in earnest now.

"Howl. For such a smart man, you sure are an idiot. Do you want her to leave? I can hear her crying out there. Even that _kabu_ is kinder to her than you are. What do you think it is like to be eighteen one moment and ninety-three the next? Can't you put yourself into her shoes for only a minute and imagine how she feels? She's going to leave Howl, and then where will you be? I'm tired of this, Howl. I want out of this contract. And you know what Howl? She can set me free. And you, Howl. She can make you free. She can keep you from coming a monster. But you're going to do your best to screw this up. You disgust me."

At Calcifer's words, Howl sank deeper into himself. Remorse mingled with his feelings of self-pity. Yes, no wonder she hated him. He was selfish, and a coward to boot. Waves of viscous slime rolled down his body. His forehead touched the hearth, which began to be engulfed by Howl's feelings of sadness.

"Howl! Do you hear me? Stop it! Do you want to kill us both? HOWL! Markl, do something! Get Sophie! I'm drowning in slime!" Calcifer's cry was urgent. This really was serious. He didn't want to die in this most degrading fashion.

Markl left and returned with a rain-soaked Sophie. Howl stole a glance at her. She looked younger. He slipped back into his wallow, and felt Sophie's warmth as she leaned over him, pushing his chair to the stairs. It took desperate measures, it seemed, to get her close to him. Sophie lifted him up, draping his body over her smaller one, and struggled to get Howl up the stairs. Howl really didn't feel like cooperating, and allowed his body (which was fairly thrilled at the closeness of her) to grow limp. Sophie scolded him. Howl let his towel drop. What would his Sophie think of that? He removed the gleam from his eyes and appeared catatonic once more. Sophie noticed his nakedness, blushed and stared skyward. "Well, I do have some effect on her," Howl thought, grinning inwardly.

They made it to the bathroom, and Sophie asked Markl to take over. Was she on to his antics? He heard her mutter about cleaning again. Well, she did deserve it after what she had done to his hair.

It took some time to remove the slime. Howl wished that it were Sophie scrubbing his back, gently washing his hair. It wasn't fair to subject a child to this, Howl realized, the immaturity of his act becoming clear to him. His skin oozed slightly at the thought.

"No more slime, Howl," Markl warned. "Howl, you're not going to hurt Sophie, are you? I care about her, Howl."

Howl sat bolt upright in the tub. He _had_ meant to hurt her, he realized, to pay her back for his own feelings of inadequacy. He saddened at the thought. Never again would he cause her pain. "Markl," he answered softly. "I won't hurt Sophie again. She means too much to me."

Howl finished his bath alone, a sudden maturity creeping into him. He drained the tub, and wiped it down, the first time he had ever done so. He returned to his room, and found a clean white nightshirt among others folded neatly in his bureau. Sophie. He crawled into bed, exhausted, and closed his eyes. Sophie, he thought. She _was_ younger, he realized. She now looked about fifty, though prematurely grey. No, silver. Her hair would be lovely if she removed it from that plait. He suddenly realized which spell she was under. It wasn't a spell of aging at all! The spell was one which made real ones innermost fears. Sophie, he realized, thought of herself as a future spinster, a seamstress old before her time. She had spoken the truth when she'd cried out about never being beautiful, not for a day in her life. The truth, that is, as she saw it. Howl knew how to break the spell now. The problem was, it was not Howl who must break it.

Howl awoke to a gentle knock on his door, as Sophie came in bearing a cup of warm milk. What type of person, he wondered, continues to give when hurt? What kind of person was his Sophie? She did care about him, he realized suddenly, and a joy entered him. He asked her to stay, but could not find words to express his remorse or his feelings for her. How could he show he loved her? He did love her, he thought with a jolt. How could this be without a heart? Uncle Octavius was right. He _could_ love. And he did! It hadn't been the contract with Calcifer preventing it all this time. He hadn't known what love really is. But now, he realized, he did. He would do anything for Sophie.

Perhaps it was wrong for someone like her to care about someone like him. He told her he was a coward, the first time he'd ever admitted such a thing to anyone else. He saw concern in her eyes, and a small amount of disgust at his reference to his womanizing past. He probably didn't deserve her. What could he do to show her his feelings, so that she might feel about him the way he felt about her? What could he do to keep her by his side?

Howl sprang up in bed, hair swirling around his face, eyes wide, a new thought interrupting his reverie. She wanted to help him and she could! With her by his side he could face Suliman. Howl explained a part of his plan to Sophie and jumped out of bed, draping himself in an old blanket. He would outsmart Suliman and earn the love of the woman of his dreams. He was sure of it.

Howl hurriedly prepped Sophie for her engagement with Suliman. The sooner this was over the better. He wished Sophie would wear her hair long, but as his "mother" perhaps that was inappropriate. But that confounded hat! Why must she wear it? Its plainness didn't suit her beauty, apparent to him now even in her middle-aged form. Howl swooped in on Sophie as she descended the steps to the front door. He held her hand and gave her his ring, a talisman which would protect her and link her to Calcifer and Howl. He would hear her every conversation and make sure she was safe, although he did not tell her this. Howl bade Sophie good bye and rushed upstairs to cast the spell he would use to meet the letter of Suliman's law.


	15. In Which Howl Appreciates Sophie

**Chapter 15: In Which Howl Appreciates Sophie**

Howl rummaged through the boxes and scattered papers on his worktable. "It must be here," he said aloud. "Who would have thought it would come in handy?"

"I guess there are certain advantages to being a packrat," Calcifer muttered.

"What are you looking for, Howl?" asked Markl, eager to help.

"The letter the king sent me after my mom died," Howl said, overturning a tall and precariously balanced stack of books in his hurry. "Ah, here it is. Somewhat worse for wear, but it will do. I am certain it is in his hand."

Howl rolled up the paper and placed it in a crystal goblet. "Calcifer," he said, with the slightest edge to his voice. "This will go a bit faster if you'll help."

"Certainly," said the demon, his mood considerably brighter since he'd noticed the change in Howl's feelings toward Sophie.

Howl said an incantation, strange words that sounded less like the spoken word of Ingary and more like the booming of a kantling ostrich. At these alien words, the letter smoked and burst into flames. As it burned, Howl changed. His hair lightened and reddened, his jaw broadened, he grew taller. His lanky frame grew more solid, his chest broader. His posture became that of a military man. His nightshirt morphed from simple white cotton to the green and pink uniform of the army's highest rank.

"Do I look the part?" he said in a voice that was at least an octave deeper.

"How would I know, Howl? It's been years since I left this hearth."

"You look just like the photo in those leaflets the enemy scattered," said Markl, very impressed. He just stopped himself from bowing.

Howl grabbed a hand mirror and inspected their work. Yes, he could easily pass for the king, although the eye color was his own shocking shade of pale blue.

"I'm off," he said, his voice with its new timbre sounding more confident than he felt. Howl used the black portal to enter into one of the palace's gardens. It was not far to the parade ground where he knew he would be able to find a personal aircraft, or flying cigar, as the service men called it.

"Just going for a spin," he told the private standing nearby, who snapped to attention, then bowed deeply, confused at the sight of his commander-in-chief and king mingling among enlisted men. The controls were quite simple, Howl found, although his travels as a bird may have made them seem intuitive. A wheel for turning left and right was mounted to a movable stick that turned the nose up or down or banked the plane. A pedal controlled the fuel intake. Howl took the cigar into the air, and flew above and behind the conservatory. He remembered the many lessons he'd taken in that large sunlit room, and Suliman's formidable presence. She was there, sure enough, though he could see only her arms, her great staff in one hand. The rest of her was hidden by the tall back of the throne-like wheelchair she sat in. Also in the room Howl saw one, two, six pages, all of whom looked suspiciously like his 12-year old self. Even the garments they wore looked like the clothes he had worn at that time. Something was very wrong with Suliman, he realized. His uncle had been right to warn him. What were Suliman's plans for him? Howl silenced the sound of the engines with a flick of his hand, and hovered, waiting for his Sophie to be shown into the grand glasshouse.

Howl heard the voice of Sophie in his mind, as the ring she wore communicated her conversation. Apparently the conversation was with herself, as he heard no other voices. These old lady habits she had taken on made it hard to believe she was only eighteen. What did she say? Was she mocking him? He was certainly not flamboyant, just very well-dressed. How could she fault him for that? There was silence for a while, then Howl laughed as he realized that Sophie had mistaken Suliman's pathetic errand dog for himself. Another voice entered the conversation. It was Emma, unmistakably, and Howl heard her derisive voice taunt his new love. This was taking longer than he had thought. Sophie would be exhausted by the time she reached the conservatory. Howl had not counted on the fact that there are limits to which a ninety-year old can be subjected, even if her body is really only eighteen years old.

Howl listened to Sophie struggle to climb the steps, then descend to fetch and carry the overweight errand dog. She seemed annoyed, but Howl was touched that despite her scornful words she would help him in this way. Howl laughed again as Sophie refused to help the witch, unless some deal were struck to free her from the spell. He had known she had spirit!

Finally, Howl saw Sophie ushered in to the conservatory and directed to sit in a chair placed an intimidating distance from the grand sorceress of Ingary. Suliman, too had been listening to Sophie's conversation with the misidentified Howl, he surmised from the wizardess' condescending chuckle. Sophie did her best to defame Howl. Had she had practice at this?

Then Sophie surprised him. Hearing Suliman's story of Howl's fall from grace and her plans for his redemption or sacrifice, Sophie stood and commanded Suliman's attention. In a voice that electrified him, Sophie spoke in certain words of the type of person she knew Howl to be. As she spoke, Howl saw her change. The years slipped away, and she was eighteen again. Glowing with an inner light that could only be… Love. Suliman said it, and she was right. Howl saw Sophie snap back to her ninety-year old self, not yet willing to own her feelings. Howl nearly crashed the plane in his elation. She loved him! He righted the flying cigar and soared over the roof of the conservatory. His plan was almost complete, and at its riskiest point. Suliman knew he was coming and she would take advantage of the weakness she now perceived.

Howl had counted on the king being out of his offices, playing polo, shooting skeet or engaged in another of the countless pastimes he pursued instead of actually running the country. To Howl's chagrin, he strode out and laughed heartily when he saw Howl addressing his royal sorceress. It was Howl's eloquence, however, which gave him away. Howl should have known (he did know, really, having spent so much time in the court) that the king of Ingary would never think about the subjects outside the walls of his palace, let alone string together a complete sentence about the war's effect on their lives.

"It doesn't matter," Howl told himself. Howl was by Sophie's side, and she by his, and he had reported, as the oath he signed required. It said nothing about staying, however, and Howl had no plans to do so. He wrapped his arm around his Sophie, ready to run.

Suliman apparently expected this of him. Did Sophie know just what a monster he was? She would show her. The sorceress' intent was clear. Alone and unloved, stripped of his beauty and his true love, Howl would have no choice but to come back to his teacher and master.

Howl held fast to Sophie, despite Suliman's attempts to frighten the girl. But Howl felt Sophie stiffen with fear as Suliman transformed him. This time he changed into the monster he was becoming. His humanity stripped from him, Howl felt only the complete and overwhelming urge to rage against Suliman with animal ferocity. But Sophie, gods love her, would not let this happen. She understood Suliman, it seemed, and more importantly, she loved Howl, despite his hideous form. He broke from the transformation and soared with Sophie through the roof, poor, broken Emma and the errand dog trailing.

Another man might have collapsed after all that had transpired. Not Howl. The news of Sophie's feelings buoyed him. He was giddy with excitement, abundantly happy to have her by his side. Adrenalin, too, coursed through his veins. They must escape at once! His majesty's guard was sure to have been called out already. A plan formed quickly in Howl's mind, as he directed Sophie to take the wheel and fly the craft. The look she returned surprised him. The confidence she had displayed just minutes earlier was suddenly gone. What's more, she was irate that she had dragged her into this mess. He told her gently how he needed her there, how he would have been lost without her. He wanted wrap his arms around her in a less animal embrace than that of just moments before. He wanted to kiss her, to tell her how much he loved her, but he realized the time was not right. She would not understand that the words he'd said to so many women meant something much different now. He would show her instead how much she meant to him. He would gladly risk his life for her.


	16. In Which Lives Are Risked

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. This is my first fanfic (actually my first story of any kind) so be gentle, reader. Thank you to those who have reviewed this story. It means a lot to me!_

_It has been very difficult for me to write these last few chapters because when I think of the beauty of Miyazaki's work, I find I cannot describe it adequately. I feel like I did as a child when the pictures I drew did not turn out the way I wanted, or show what I wanted them to. This chapter contains mostly my own thoughts, so perhaps it is somewhat better. At least I cannot compare it to Miyazaki's and find it wanting! I appreciate any comments you are willing to share! ---sakura_

**Chapter 16: In Which Lives Are Risked**

Satisfied that Sophie could handle the aircraft, Howl waved his hand, casting a clever spell that split him (only temporarily, he hoped) from his love. She and her entourage of witch and dog were invisible; he and the after-image of the plane and its passengers were easily spotted and a ready target for the royal guard. Summoning all the power he possessed, Howl solidified this illusion and sent the guards on a merry goose chase. "Flying" the non-existent craft was a simple game; he simply levitated his body up, down, forward and side to side. Keeping the image visible and in the correct location was a bit more tricky. It faded a bit, but snapped back into view quickly as Calcifer added his powers to Howl's.

"I knew I could count on you, Cal," Howl said aloud.

In Howl's head a voice replied, "Howl, I wouldn't miss this for the world. You, the biggest coward Ingary has ever seen, fighting? You must really be in love. I didn't think it would be possible without your heart."

"Well, what does a fire demon know about anatomy?" asked Howl. "This is no time to chit-chat. Focus with me!" The pilots of the royal guard drew closer, and their gunmen fired several rounds that came frighteningly close to the raven-haired wizard. Howl moved himself and the apparition low, and seemingly flew into a thick stand of trees. He took on his outsized martin form, and perched high in an oak, barely visible from ground or sky. He heard the cigar-like aircraft landing, and men on the ground, searching the woods for some sign of his party. He would be safe high in the tree, but cast a distraction spell to ensure this. He needed some rest. Apart from the brief nap after the unfortunate incident with the hair dye, and the short rest in the rafters (followed by a very rude awakening), Howl hadn't slept in days. He moved down the branch to lean his back against the curved trunk of the tree. He found he couldn't sleep, however. His hair became feathers as he considered the injustice of his situation. His nails became sharp black claws. He'd already lost his parents and uncle to war, in one way or another, and knew he would not be able to bear it if his Sophie, so near to him now, became another casualty.

But when was war ever just? What was this one even about? A royal son had gone missing, accusations had been made. Missiles fired and lives were lost. Thousands upon thousands of lives lost over one person, who could be anywhere, alive and well. The reason for this war was about as plausible as the reason for the last one. Another war for no reason, thought Howl.

Suliman was involved with both, Howl realized. The first was to secure the king's power, and her own, as she truly was the power behind the throne. The second…to secure her legacy? Suddenly the puzzle fit itself together. Howl realized the meaning of Octavius' warning, the meaning of the royal summons, the meaning of the blond-haired pages with whom Suliman surrounded herself. She wants me, Howl thought with a shiver of disgust. She wants to live on through me. He became more scared than ever. She would allow thousands to be killed just to regain control over her former student? No, she would not win this war, she would not use him to meet her ends. The castle was in danger, he clearly saw. His _family_ was in danger. "Calcifer! Do not under any circumstances allow any one to enter through any portal. Seal them. Is that clear?"

"Abundantly, Howl. There was a terrible crashing on the Porthaven and Kingsbury doors a while ago. Before you ask, I'm not stupid. Of course I didn't answer."

Suliman's men, most likely. Those portals were effectively gone.

Calcifer interrupted his thoughts. "I assume you are not speaking about Sophie. I _can_ let her in, right? I would anyway, you know. She's not with you, is she?"

Sophie. Her life was at risk now, because of him. He'd apologized only days ago for involving her in something that seemed so insignificant now. The witch of the waste and her henchmen were like children compared to Suliman! "Sophie," he groaned aloud. He must protect her.

Howl realized then how truly, madly and deeply he loved his Sophie. He was willing to give up everything, his very life, to protect the woman he loved. It didn't matter that she was old and grey and sometimes cranky and curmudgeonly. She had a beauty greater than that of anyone he'd ever met. She loved unconditionally. So could he.

Howl took to the air. It had been at least two hours since he'd heard the sounds of soldiers, and the sun was low in the sky. A smell of rain hung in the air. It seemed likely to storm soon. How good it would be to return to the castle, take a warm bath, and begin to show his Sophie how much he cared.

Howl's thoughts were interrupted by the whirr of engines. Howl raged at the fact that he was still under attack, and focused this anger, gathering strength. He turned quickly in the air, his abrupt maneuver surprising the royal guards who were heading his way, recognizing Howl despite his feathered finery. Howl slammed into the starboard engine of the first aircraft, causing the aircraft to spiral downward. Its pilot and gunman should be unharmed, Howl thought, if either had any skill. A similar move disabled the next craft. The others flew away, to regroup, perhaps, and Howl was free for the moment.

He couldn't head home yet. The castle was safe in the vast wastes and traveling there now would only lead them to it. He would not use the black portal for the same reason. He might as well use his time productively. "A disabled army cannot fight," Howl mused, heading back to the palace. He traveled as high as possible, so that he might appear to anyone watching as a large bird of prey, not a human-swallow hybrid. They wouldn't expect to see him at the palace, Howl realized, smiling at the brilliance of his plan. He landed in a tree and waited. It was getting near sunset, which would make his job easier. Munitions were kept in sheds quite close to the royal academy. He'd heard many stories as a child of the simplest way to enter the sheds, and quite a few of his classmates had done so on a dare. He supposed students still did. As the sky darkened, and the stars came out of the sky (not that many were visible through the pollution-laden air of the capital) Howl jumped softly to the ground, regaining his human form in the process. He slipped like a shadow through a door into a large storage area filled with a bewildering assortment of weaponry. Where to start first?

"Howl. HOWL! Please don't do anything stupid. Sophie's home, she's safe and sleeping. Howl, she loves you. You know that, don't you? I can't believe you're going to do this."

Howl looked around the storeroom. Where should he start first? The largest bombs seemed the obvious choice, considering the devastation they could unleash. They were filled with gunpowder, he knew, which would be simple to remove. But certainly the crew would notice their change in weight. What should he use for ballast? The answer made him laugh aloud. What would the royals think when they went to enjoy an early morning walk and found the gravel path to the rose gardens replaced with a strange grey dust? He sincerely hoped they did not smoke. That might prove costly. Howl got to work. An incantation to switch locations was all that was needed, no equipment necessary. A simple calculation showed him that he would have to work gross by gross, however. Lifting and moving the gunpowder and gravel was exhausting work, despite the fact that no muscles were involved.

Howl was about halfway through his chosen task when he heard a creak. He looked up to find himself cornered, bayonets threateningly close. The uniform he wore did not fool them. With these soldiers was one of his pursuers from earlier in the day. A distraction was badly needed, Howl thought desperately, gauging the distance to the door.

"Please," Howl said, lifting his hand in protest and nonchalantly flicking his little finger. "There is no need for incivility. I am unarmed. And gentlemen, those spears are sharp." He smiled his most winning smile, as a shelf collapsed in the far corner of the room. The officers turned at the sudden sound and Howl bolted for the door, taking his martin form as he did so. One soldier ran to the door and thrust his bayonet at the escaping bird-man. Howl felt a sudden flash of pain, but flew on, regardless. He flew to the edge of the city, past Suliman's curtain of protection. Safe from intrusion, he summoned the black portal and returned to his home.

He walked slowly across the common room, dripping blood and feathers as he did so, barely noticing the partially collapsed wall and general disorder. He would be healed as soon as he transformed but he was far too exhausted to do so. He would bind his wound and rest for a while first. Howl headed to the stairs and noticed Sophie on the floor. So kind to give up her place to Emma, Howl thought. What he wouldn't do for her! Sophie stirred as he passed her. He mounted the stairs and saw Sophie sit up quickly. She was asleep and half-dreaming, Howl saw, noticing her brown hair, but awake enough to see the blood and the feathers. She picked one up in her hands. It crumbled into nothing and Sophie gasped. She couldn't see him like this, he wouldn't let her. Howl said a gentle word and Sophie fell back onto her pillow. But her sleep was not gentle. He could see she was still dreaming, and not happily. He would wrap her in his arms if he could, but not like this. Not yet. Howl continued upstairs and cleaned his wound, wrapping it as best he could, given his long sharp nails and bulky wings. He headed for his bedroom and heard her voice. Her ring, he realized was sharing with him the words she spoke aloud in her sleep. He heard the tenderness in her voice as she said she could help him break his curse, and the pain and fear as she told him she loved him. She really did love him, Howl thought. She really did.


	17. The Gift

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. _

_Thank you to those who have reviewed this story! I so appreciate your comments!_

**Chapter 17: The Gift**

Howl awoke in his bathtub, the water surrounding him quite cool. From the looks of his fingers and toes, he had been there for some time, although he didn't remember how he'd gotten there. He looked at his side. His wound was gone, healed in his transformation to human form. Howl emptied the tub and refilled it partway, hastily scrubbing himself clean. There was important work to do today! He wrapped himself in a clean, white towel (Sophie again; they'd always been somewhat grey before), and hastened to his room. There really was no point in fussing over his clothing. Howl hurriedly changed into commonsense clothes (still stylish, of course) for a day of moving. He fairly tripped down the stairs in his excitement, greeting his burgeoning family as he described the event in store for the coming day.

"Sophie will be so surprised," he thought, eager to share some specifics of the move. No, he chided himself; surely he could keep a secret for at least a few hours. He looked forward to seeing her reaction to the changes he was considering. That would be _his_ gift, he realized. He gazed at her spooning gruel into Emma's mouth. Only Sophie would nurse the woman who stolen her youth.

Once again, the move itself took very little time. It was a simple incantation, requiring only the great power unleashed by the linkage of human and demon. More was spent by Howl in his room, first at his desk, and then on his bed, where he lay tossing and catching a stuffed, striped cow, thinking about the smallest details that might delight his Sophie. Calcifer commented, as he usually did.

"You are going to give her a room for herself, aren't you Howl? I'd really like some privacy, and I really don't think Sophie would want to share your room just now, you lecher," said the former star.

"Yes, Cal. I'd already thought of that. As you know." The chaise Sophie slept on was built more for looks than comfort, and a curtained-off niche under the stairs was hardly suitable for the woman he loved. The mattress on the floor was not much better. Howl thought of the room above the hat shop, where he had scryed Sophie sleeping. It was had been so cold-looking, so empty, so unlike her—the real her. But the other bedrooms (and ones he had visited in other houses for reasons it would be best not to describe here) were not like her either. His mind fixed on the tiny room he'd seen at the back of the hat shop. He had felt her essence there.

And what of the rest of the house? Howl remembered paintings he had seen in museums while courting several ladies in Kingsbury. There were several works that had intrigued him.

"Hello? Who cares what you like? They probably all depict women in low-cut gowns, leaning over. 'Oh, I dropped this flower, just as the artist was painting me!' "

Actually, they didn't. Howl did have better taste than that. But Calcifer was right. This was about Sophie, not him. He thought of several more paintings that might please her. A pastoral scene, a moonlit lake, both serene and peaceful like Sophie. He placed these on his mental checklist. A table for two as well. Not ornate and overdone, as he might have selected before he met her. She would prefer something simple, yet elegant, like a fine linen tablecloth that was plain save for painstaking hemstitching. Shining wood floors, and a place to store all the books that cluttered up the common room.

"She'd like that, wouldn't she, Cal?" Howl asked hopefully.

"Anything that would reduce the total chaos that comes with living with you, o master of entropy? Yes, Howl, I think she'd love it."

Howl smiled and ignored his demonic companion's insults. The kitchen. Bright copper pans that would be a delight to use. Surely Sophie would like those.

"Yeah, I'd like those, too. Those cast iron ones leave a funny taste in my mouth."

A brightly-lit window with a view onto Market Chipping, and hand-painted tiles in colors he hoped would make her smile. He borrowed some details he had glimpsed in Sophie's house, enough to make her new home have the comfort of familiarity. A few things in the castle would remain as they had been, such as Howl's carved worktable (a gift to his mother from his father) and his mother's weavings. Calcifer's fireplace, of course, would stay the same, as he was the soul of the place and needed a home befitting him.

"You could polish up the andirons, Howl. But I like the part about being the soul of the house. I like you, too, you know."

And gifts, Howl thought. She would need gifts. In his mind he saw Sophie in a soft cotton dress of pale yellow, its hem ruffled, its bodice tucked. Another dress of soft blue—that would set off her hair, he thought, and a third of rose. A hat to replace the horrible one she'd lost at the palace. A white one would suit her beautifully, with a wide brim to shade her face.

"Clothes, always clothes. Are you sure we shouldn't add on an extra closet for _you_?"

"Calcifer, could you take a nap for a little while? Find something else to do? Do you have any idea what it's like to have your every thought interrupted?"

But really, thought Howl to himself (_hopefully_ to himself), this wasn't enough to show to Sophie how he felt. Words wouldn't do. He'd surround her with flowers every day, if he could.

"What do you mean, 'if you could'? Of course you can! You're a wizard! Sheesh. Is this what love does to a person? Did you trade your brain away, too?"

Howl thought of the place where he had first met Sophie, the place where he had dreamed of her every night. She'd been his companion there for years, although she did not know it. He'd give it to her, but first make it rich with the flowers she deserved.

**.……….**

Spell complete, Howl watched Sophie, savoring her response as she moved about the room in wonder and a bit of confusion. She was holding back, he could tell. Her age ebbed and flowed as she followed him, as he, like a young child, eagerly shared his creation. He could see her bedroom affected her, as she slipped for a moment into a younger self, but she was not yet quite willing to accept what he was telling her with this generous gesture. Perhaps she did not also accept what he had heard her say in her sleep, or what had clearly been in her voice (and her face) as she had spoken with Suliman.

"Sophie!" he called, inviting her into the sunlit, wild garden. This brought her back to herself, to the person she should be. She ran in delight though the marshy meadow, and was eighteen again. Howl called her to him, and she looked at him with a sudden radiance. She had realized, he could tell, that she loved him. And she had realized that _he_ loved her. The breathless girl he had walked with in the sky stood hand in hand with him, until fear overtook her. She knew, suddenly, that he would be leaving and doubted herself and his love again. She _was_ beautiful—her love was beautiful and she herself was beautiful in ways that were much more than skin-deep. But she could not believe. She drew within the shell of the old Sophie, the thick-skinned one who could not be hurt by life's slings and arrows. And as old Sophie she was carried back, kicking and screaming to the castle.


	18. In Which Howl Reconnoitres

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. _

_The quotation in this chapter is from Christopher Marlowe's _Dr. Faustus

_This story is almost complete. I am thinking about writing a sequel, if I learn people are interested. I have a few ideas that I don't think have been explored that might be fun to examine. I'd also be interested to find out what rating people might like for the sequel. There would obviously be a love scene or two, and I am pretty open about how citrusy (if that is a word) to make it. I'd like it to be a comfortable read, however, for those who have enjoyed this story, urged me on, and helped me to improve it._

_Thank you again to those who have taken the time to review, so far! Your comments light up my day._

**Chapter 17: In Which Howl Reconnoitres**

Howl was mentally drained, physically exhausted. There was no place to land and rest, no haven for miles. Fire flowed below him like a river at flood stage, obliterating everything in its path. How many lives had been taken by this pointless war? How many would return from the places where they cowered to find their livelihoods destroyed, their lifetimes' work in ashes? How could the wealth of two nations be squandered in such a meaningless show of force?

Howl circled, his keen eyes drawn to the soldiers below. Exhaustion showed in them, as well, in the way they trudged, laden with packs, bedrolls and bayonets. Their bed tonight would be a shallow ditch; their rations stale bread and contaminated water. How many of them would die from cholera or other diseases of a disrupted society?

Howl traversed the country by air, anxious to see if all areas were as devastated as those closest to Kingsbury. What was the strategy of this attack and counter attack? Where could he move his family to ensure their safety? The smaller towns seemed fine, but no city, save the capital, seemed to be immune from the bombs. Pockets within each city had areas of cratered buildings and ruined streets. A few cities were encircled by enemy encampments. But who was the enemy? In many cases, the crafts dropping bombs wore the royal crest of Ingary. Yes, their attacks were effective against the camps of foreign soldiers, but at the cost of civilian life and homes.

Howl flew on, and passed over meadows, where sheep seemed undisturbed, and small farms. He found a quiet place to roost for a while, in a gnarled apple tree at the very edge of a fast flowing stream. It would take too much energy to change back to his fully human form. He clung to a stout branch, a dark angel save for the long black claws on his feet and hands. In his mind he heard his Sophie. She still wore his ring, and it soothed Howl's anxiety to hear that things were fairly normal at the castle. When his mind was filled with the sights and sounds of the war, he could barely hear her. At rest now, he luxuriated in the sound of her voice. He inferred from her conversations she had set up the flower shop, although he did not hear her speaking with customers.

"Soon there won't be anyone left." What was happening in Market Chipping? He filled with dread. He must go back to her.

Howl ruffled his feathers and stretched his wings to ready for the migration home. He reached for an apple and quickly devoured it. He was almost ready to leave. A quick drink and a small fish first, if he could find one—the fruit had broken his fast of many hours but Howl might not last the journey without a more substantial meal. He dropped from the tree and used his taloned hands to scoop up a drink from the stream. Its water was cold and invigorating, but the stream flowed much too fast for there to be any chance of catching a fish, even with razor-nailed hands. Howl walked uphill to a shallow pool that appeared to be the source of the stream and knelt by it. He extended, then curved his wing over the water like a cloak. The sudden shade might draw a fish towards him. He wondered at this instinctive behavior. Howl leaned in toward the water, in search of a shimmering fish darting beneath its glass-like surface. Howl caught sight of himself unexpectedly, in the way that one sometimes does when walking past a darkened plate glass window. The person he saw had Howl's clear blue eyes, and his face was human. His muscular form hinted of who he had been, but this was not the Howl of six months ago, or even days ago. Could he change back to human form?

_Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ilium? _ The words jumped into Howl's mind. He remembered a strange, gold-edged book in his uncle's library. It was one of several Octavius had acquired from a marshland wanderer, one of the people who appeared now and then wearing strange clothes, with strange speech and objects to match. Howl had asked his uncle about one story within that book, and a similar story in another, and his uncle had spent hours telling him all he had been able to learn from the wanderer about the mythology and history of the world described therein.

"What was the point of those wars?" Howl mused. "To win one person, one nation nearly destroyed another. And itself." He would not be cast as Helen of Troy and stand passive like her, a pawn for the taking, a spoil of war. He would fight both sides, if necessary to protect those he loved. Or he would die trying.

But he was Faustus, too, Howl realized. In his quest for knowledge and power, he had damned himself.

Howl abandoned his fishing and flew home where he was met with the devastation he feared. Market Chipping had no true port; it was not a seat of power. It was a medium-sized town, not a city. It had limited natural resources and minor manufacturing capacity. It was a town of small merchants and craftsmen, a town like so many others in Ingary. But unlike those towns, Market Chipping was under siege. It was insignificant compared to its closet neighbor, Kingsbury, and must be tactically worthless. But the scale of the attack was larger than he'd seen elsewhere. What benefit would derive from its obliteration?

"Because this is Sophie's home," Howl said aloud, a shudder coursing down his spine. If Suliman could not have him, no one would.

What could one wizard, powerful though he was, do to fight a wizardess with the might of a nation behind her?

Airships crisscrossed the sky. Ingarian airships, Howl noticed, their royal insignia visible from afar. There were more airships here than he'd ever seen in one place before, each laden with scores of bombs, and no enemy in sight. And now they were dropping these bombs, aiming indisputably at the stuccoed and timbered buildings below. The streets were deserted, save a small group just below him, a woman, braid flying, retreating from an advancing semicircle of soldiers. It was his Sophie, Howl saw, flying lower. Oozing blob-men wearing the colors of the royal army walked slowly towards her. He saw her confront them, then run inside the former hat shop. An airship some distance above Howl released its cache of bombs. They flew randomly as they dropped. But one was on target for Sophie's street, Howl saw.

Howl threw himself into a dive and willed himself through the air with all his might. He must intercept this bomb. He threw himself on it, but it was too late to deflect its path. Howl summoned every bit of his magic to slow the bomb. He had no faith that this missile was one that he had filled with sand in his fit of monkeywrenching, and there was no time to do so now. Howl felt the air moving more slowly through his feathers. His spell was working. He pressed on. "Don't let it end like this," was his only thought. The bomb came to a rest a split section before impact, and Howl gently lowered it to the ground. Howl then collapsed on top of it, wasted.

Howl rose slowly from the wreckage to see Sophie, her eyes at first desperate, then relieved to see that he was alive. She threw herself at him, burying her face in his raven-feathered chest, reassuring herself that he was real. He drew her to him, then wrapped his cloak-like wings around her and brought her to safety. He couldn't run anymore, he realized, despite Sophie's entreaties. He would give his life for her instead.


	19. A Battle Lost, a Battle Won

_Howl's Moving Castle and the characters portrayed within that book and movie are the sole property of the talented Diana Wynne Jones and Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli. They are not my property. This story is meant to demonstrate how incredibly wonderful I find both the movie and book. _

_This story is complete. I hope you have enjoyed it! _

_Thank you for reading and commenting!_

**Chapter 19: A Battle Lost, a Battle Won**

He should have said he loved her. He had said those words to others so many times that they had lost their meaning. Rather, he hadn't really known the meaning of those words. Now he did, but like a coward, he hadn't said them. He might never see her again, and he hadn't told her the most important words he could ever say. _I love you, Sophie._

Tears welled in Howl's eyes, clouding his vision as he flew upward to stave off as many attackers as he was able. This was what love was, Howl saw. It was more than physical pleasure or the sweet ecstasy of knowing that the person he loved loved him in return. It was more than simply wanting to give her every gift he could imagine that might make her smile, make her realize he loved her, make her love him more. It was more than knowing that he could wake every morning by her side and want to know her better, and that those mornings could stretch on for years, decades, and still he would not be sated. Howl realized that in loving Sophie, he had both lost and found himself. He realized that they were truly as one. Her pain was his pain, and in losing her, he would lose himself.

And surely he had lost her. His humanity was slipping away. He could barely control the rage he felt at this, or the atavistic, animal desire for vengeance that was struggling to consume him. He had pushed himself for days and nights, and his body and spirit were exhausted. He needed sleep and the chance to focus his energies, so that he could cling tenaciously to the person he was and survive the offensive put forth by his animal self. Howl was losing the battle. His arms melded into his wings as they grew to an immense size. He now had the wingspan of a condor, and his legs grew massive and scaly to match. Howl's skull grew the flesh-tearing, tooth-laden bill of a prehistoric raptor; his eyes glowed red. His transformation was complete. Howl the wizard was gone.

Howl the monster flung himself on a warplane and struggled to tear back the fuselage. Higher thought and compassion were lost to him. He thought only of the fact that this plane was attacking the ones he loved. He would stop it by any means possible. Howl used the curved, jet claws at the end of each hollow wing bone to gain purchase on a seam in the plane's skin; he used his brute strength to pop the rivets and peel back the cover of this flying tin can. Immediately the mutant forms of his former colleagues flew in and attacked him, their leathery wings and soft, scaly bodies crawling over him as he focused on his task. Howl cried out in a bellow of rage as the wizards pelted Howl relentlessly with assorted spells. The reptilian wizards retained some of their powers and enough intelligence to know how to use it. They were merciless, heartless, inhuman. They stunned the avian monster and delighted in their victory.

Howl fell from the plane. Cold air rushed past him and helped him come to; Howl the monster took flight, avian instincts overwhelming his once-human ones. He soared and spiraled and found that his pursuers would not relent, he could not escape. They surrounded him in a dark cloud of screaming reptilian fury. The air was filled with their cries, and with white hot shrapnel and other debris of war. Howl's feathers singed. His flesh bled as the flying beasts attacked him with claws sharp as shards of glass, and spells of polished steel. The monster Howl fought back, to no avail, then, wounded, plummeted from the sky.

"HOWL! Howl, I'm dying. Listen to me. Howl, are you there? Howl, it's Calcifer! Don't give up who you are. I know you can hear me. Listen to me, listen to me, you birdbrain! Howl! Wake up."

The human Howl stirred within his animal flesh. Who was speaking?

"Howl. She's got me. It's Calcifer, Howl, the keeper of your heart, remember? Listen to me! The witch has got me. I knew we shouldn't have let her in! But do you listen to your fire demon?"

Howl was confused. Witch? Demon? He needed to get back to the battle.

"Howl, I can't hold on much longer. Come here. Save me. Save yourself!"

"Trust in Fate, Howl." This was another voice, Howl's own voice, a memory of words read. Howl pushed the animal inside him aside. The human remembered those words, the letter, and saw a glimmer of who he had been, whom he loved.

_Trust in Fate._

Sophie! Howl saw a glimpse of the summer night he had walked through a field, caught a star and seen his love. His past was still her future, her fate. He could make her fate happen.

Howl gave his trust completely. He trusted these memories, these voices, his own and Calcifer's. Howl flew towards the waste, Calcifer's weak voice a beacon in his mind. Only one last spell to cast. The door to nowhere/everywhere would guide Sophie to his past, her nascent present, and their future together.

"The night in the meadow. The night I met Calcifer. Take her there," Howl called out in a whisper, casting the spell that would show her how to save him.

"Howl! The castle is splitting apart! Find her! She's falling! The ravine…"

The beacon in Howl's mind extinguished. Howl soared on into the wastes, and fell to the ground near the wreckage of his home. Sophie had been here, he could tell. There was the door. Her fragrance hung in the air, as did the recent memory of her presence. Howl remembered her beauty, her gentleness, her unconditional love. He sobbed, and felt himself slipping away. It was too late. It was over.

_Trust in Fate._

Howl summoned the last of his strength to transform from the hideous monster he now was to the Howl Sophie loved. She couldn't see him this way. He tried, and failed, and tried again. His skull shifted and his face emerged as before, his eyes stunningly blue, his features refined. His skin, however, was the grey, feathered skin of a black-as-night raven; his body the massive size of a prehistoric teratorn. Howl felt himself fading. He struggled to remain at least partly human. He was weak; he was bleeding, barely conscious.

He no longer knew who he was.

Then he saw her. He knew her, he was sure of it. He felt the peace radiating from her into him, calming him. He felt the encompassing embrace of being loved and knew he would do anything for her, although he didn't know her name. He looked at her blankly, sadly, as she kissed him. This surprised him, though he didn't know why. This vision of peace and kindness had kissed him. To break a spell, perhaps? It was too late, though. He was no longer Howl the human, but a horrible mixture of man and beast. Howl heard her words; the chimera would do as the girl asked. She clung to his talon as he lifted his mass into the air. He dripped blood and feathers as he flew, and lost consciousness as he thumped onto the deck of the once-castle.

…….. ….

Howl awoke to a headache and a pounding in his ears, his chest, everywhere. He was confused, and wondered why he was lying on his back on a floor that was shifting under him, with no walls around it or roof above it. The sky was clear and bright above him. He focused his eyes and saw that the loveliest girl was kneeling over him, concern and devotion in her eyes. She looked like an angel, her hair sparkled and shone like starlight. He cried out aloud in his amazement. "Sophie!" He started to say it, those words that she must hear, but she jumped on him in delight, knocking him back against the floor. "I love you, Howl!" she cried, before he could catch his breath.

And they started their life together.


End file.
